I think I’m calling it Trust Him.
Descending messages that I cannot be sure of
Pretensive effigies to gods, when mine is pure love.
I can’t ascend these stairs these stares are biting wincing
Okay, how did I do? Just was that ish convincing?
The effort is the point it’s not to get it perfect.
The point is to dig deep, not just look at the surface.
I will amend these wounds! These tunes that are within me
Must surface and express the sorrow that is brimming.
And I’ll chock up to chance one thing
That I know how to dance and sing
And I trust Him to lead me there
I will not put up blockages to what is pending.
Musings of the Mad 
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