Twist & Turns

My tears were meant to fall.
They were meant to be free.
But my pride holds my mind captive
And makes me feel as though freedom equals the end of me.
A lot of times I feel low.
So low that you would think that up is the only direction to go.
But somehow i manage to get lost in the twists and turns.

I try so hard to search for "good"
But "bad" seems to always find me first.
People say "keep your faith"
But no matter how hard I try to keep my faith....
It's like my faith just wont keep me.

No matter how hard I try to see the forest....
There's always this one damn tree.
That'll blocked my view for what seems like an eternity.

A wise person once told me
"You have to go through darkness to get to the light"
But i've been in the dark for so long,
Im convinced that there is no light.
But only a mere prisoner of our imagination.
A vessel of pure hope.

They say its not how you fall,
But how you get up.
But what if I'm too weak to get up?
I never stand completely on my feet it seems....
I scrape and struggle only to make it to just my knees.
 Just for the chance to cry out a soundless cry,
 yell out a silent please.
You can see the many times i've fallen just by counting the scars on my knees.

Im tired of climbing mountains just to lose the battles at the top.
But then again.......
What is life without obstacles?
Life itself is just one big lesson awaiting to be learned.
And the best lessons lay in between the twists and turns. ❤

In Memory Of......

Ain't y'all tired of saying RIP?
Or is it only me?
It's gotten to where I'm scared to wake up in the mornings.
As if I didn't already know what to expect.
Of course,
The loss of yet another soul.
The screaming mothers and weeping baby momma's
The sight of a soul-less body with twelve gun shot wounds makes me quiver.
The pain and suffering of life itself etched on his face.
His hand places upon his chest.
Guarding the heart that cost him his life.
It's sad..... The fact that i actually expect this sight.

I'm tired of going to church in the middle of the week just to sit in red pews
Dressed in all black.
Watching everybody within the church's walls reminisce on the memories of the happy times  of their loved ones.
Making them out to be saints.
Knowing damn well they're closer to an aint.
But you know,
No one dares to speak on that.
Keeping the skeletons locked in the closet because we're in the house of the Lord.
As if He can't see through the wooden door.

I'm tired of hearing the pastor preach the same sermon
About how yet another life was taken too soon.
Putting the same amount of money into the same golden collection plates.

I'm tired of hearing the choir sing the same sad ass songs about how he/she has gone on to a better place.
As if they knew the plans God had in store for the people that once were.
Sick of seeing a person...
Who last week,
Walked joyfully down the street,
Be placed six feet under.

Hope for better days mixed in with the residue of fear
I know that the only way I will no longer see the letters "R.I.P"
Is if they're printed above a picture of me.