Doubts

Soul, soul, soul, soulDismiss my questions, pass it.Relationship's been passive.Black holes, these rabbits massive.I deal myself this damage.Package deal with the devil's Maker.HE's not a corrupted creation.But for Him give up more than the faker, a gentle and loving Savior.Is He concept, or construct, or character?Is He mind frame or restriction banister? Why should I worship, praise Him or clap my hands? Am I just... ugh... am I wrong for asking this?Am I disrespecting the Ressurected by saying that my Jesus isn't anything I expected?A Christian would just tell me these are questions the devil's erected,Infected my mind with lies to try to drag me to hell and I GUESSED IT!I asked a Christian and they fed me superstition;Not about the Risen, but about a man that's on a mission,A high position, and in addition, their permission to carry out a religious commission because of the people's vision.Even in their recognition,My cynical suspicions, I felt like the coalition's love came with a few conditions.Though their sunny dispositions give a different definition, I felt like their love was easy lifted and would leave me wishing.  To look back over what I've written is a bit appalling.I'm tryna pick a side in life and I feel like I'm stalling.I'm in the center of the spectrum weighing out my options, and both sides got me feeling like I'm missing callings.I'm draining out my phone's battery on purpose. Friends and family, words I've written here could hurt them.I'm always wondering which way to take to get to purpose.Tryna take my dreams past just dreams and lip service.Listening to the sermon.Trying to determineIf they're even certain.Clawed the epidermis of the verses, words and words, my brain, it hurts, this pursuit's kitty and vermin.LearningObligatory praising doesn't leave Him flattered.To starve yourself just keeps your third belly from getting fatter.It's complicated, but without a heart of praise, your offering is ultimately tattered.I miss when nothing mattered.I stuffed my face, I lazed my days far away like Satur-.And now I've made my own lil world; I don't know how it happened.The walls close in on me, but this story won't end in madness.Cuz when I find the exit door, I walk into a pasture.Chaotic thoughts in process, only sound of raging fires.Switch to sunny Sunday, now I'm sitting in the quiet. I haven't moved, I've just been sitting in this chair for five minutes.It's wonderful and scary just how powerful my mind is... 

This poem is about: 
Me

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