Isaiah 64:8 Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. In partial continuation of my last post Broken Bricks and dabbing fists with my post Diamonds & Pearls , I'm inclined to remain transparent with you all in order to prove my point. So after my love life handed me a bag of stale crushed Flamin' Hots and slapped my freeze pop out of my hands, I hated myself. I did not like anything about me. I became my worst enemy. (And I'm a poet and don't even know it ha!) Not only that, my self-esteem was shot and my self-worth was at a critical all time low. No longer stewing in the thoughts of revenge, I was left with cleaning up the mess that I'd played a part in creating. But, I was like a baby playing in doo-doo. I was somewhat disinterested in really taking inventory and assessing my funk, because I didn't believe that it was actually a necessity. What I ended up doi...
"I aim to be a written letter of God. I live my life to bleed, just to be one of the red ones."