We Did Alright

So, yet another thing I’ve written a bit ago. I don’t know if it makes sense, but either way-enjoy!

Remember when we were younger, and things didn’t matter to us, other than making sure we made it to bed on time before mom suspended our tv privileges?
Remember when we lived in a time where reality was just something that we saw on TV, that the games we played used Tonka Trucks, pretending that they were all stuck in the mud, come in off the bike all dirtied up, and the biggest fear was what we messed up with the dirt on our shoes?
Yeah?
   Wish I could say that was the truth for now, but the thing is that I look back on the memories, and I’m starting to realize they weren’t all happy for me. I struggled with so much to stay in the same spot, claim that I’ve done a lot, look at me now, I hit emotional highs and bring myself down, claim I’m what will bring fame to this horror-ridden town.
See the truth is that behind the smile I copy and paste onto my face, I struggle so much.
She’s a good girl they say as I walk away, with a fake smile on my face like everything’s okay. Convince myself I’m being ridiculous like I don’t have a role in this, the mess I call a life of mine, what the heck am I suppose to do this time?

The truth is I’ve never known where I was going or what I was supposed to do. Blame myself, but claim it wasn’t true. I worked my hardest to get here, in the mess I call my life, and as much as I hate myself for it, I’d still say it’s alright. Maybe it’s no longer toy trucks in our years, but we’ve had the memories, and we’ve had our fears-and look where it’s got us, this mess of a life, something that, in the end, shows we did alright.

A Personal Piece of Heaven, with a Taste of Hell

Everytime I walk into the room, somethings different. A small thing, even my perspective.

Been living in it for a while, some days feelin’ like I’m dying in it. I dream my dreams, plan my schemes. That rooms where I had my best days, thought I was great, came back to ground zero, feel nothing but hate. It’s where my nightmares were born, my fears and addictions stormed. That room is where I lived for so long, my personal piece of heaven, mixed with a taste of hell.

It’s where I’d go to hide, to lock my tears inside. It’s where my nails met my skin, invisible scars that shouldn’t have been. It’s where I’d go to cry at nights-whether it sending a prayer to God, asking Him to make it alright. To show me things I shouldn’t, to make me a person I couldn’t be. That rooms where I dealt with rejection; fought against affection. Rejected God, claimed a passion for things I couldn’t stand with. I lost myself in that room, but I found myself there, too. A lot’s happened in that little room. My personal heaven, a retreat if you will,, but where I retreat to find emotions inside. Welcome to my slither of heaven, with a taste of hell.

Trust to Understand-Poem

I’m posting these because I can’t seem to get the words to come out for poetry right now. Anyways, here’s another poem. Honestly, it kinda makes me cringe. (It’s another poem I wrote last year).


The world around me surrounds
The fear around me abounds
The tears that fall down my face
The darkness from which I cannot wake
The light I struggle to find
I can only be grateful to the Lord
For the strength to keep on
Even though I feel alone, and my faith wavers, I always find Him.
Even though the words struggle to form, I can trust Him, to understand.

Worth the Cross

Hey guys, today I found a poem I wrote last year when I was going through I really hard time. I know it’s been awhile since I posted anything on the TruelyHaziWords part of my blog, but here it is. (Like I said, I’m not poet, but I figured it’d be interesting to have on this blog.

Let me know what you think.

 

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I have an unexplainable bout of confusion my life.
The thoughts that grip and tear at me.
The hurt that roars through me, fighting to be released.
The tears of pain and agony, the cries for my soul that’s undoubtedly lost.
I wonder, will I ever be worth the price paid at the cross?
The stories tell of the people who found, their way back around, all safe and sound, to God.
They plague me, antagonize me, reminding me of my attempts to make it, but slipping in the end.
I cannot find my way-lost in this confusing array, of emotions filled with anger, tears, and joy.
Unhappiness dissolves in my life, is there something more, or am I trying to cause strife?
Have I missed something through the years?
Did I forget why God sent me here?
Is the price He paid really worth,
the mistakes I make on this shaking earth?
The ground on which I stand, is most certainly   sinking sand.
Am I really worth the cost,
that Christ paid at the cross?

Stay Ginchy!

HaziWords