PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Father, the sun has risen on days darker than the nights

I have wandered blind and fallen into ever ditch there ever was

And now these knees cannot take another stumble

They’re so scarred and ugly they’ve been humbled

And I am a sinner so ugly I can’t look at myself without crying

So Father, be my forgiveness and my mirror until my dying



I am not of this world

Not fiction to be told

I am the truth I heard You call me

So gently and bold without apology



I am only one of the flock

A single brush stroke

I am myself Your flesh and blood

And in Your image Your portrait



Sadness is like the warmest blanket to weather the storm

But in the end it’s the only shelter that leaves the wearer exposed

And all I know is that in my comfort zone I still shiver

In the corner that I’ve crouched in year after year

And now I’d rather be naked in the middle of a winter blizzard

Than be content and living with the lies I misheard



I am not of this world

Not fiction to be told

I am the truth I heard You call me

So gently and bold without apology



I am only one of the flock

A single brush stroke

I am myself Your flesh and blood

And in Your image Your portrait



And in Your image I am Your portrait

And in Your image I am Yours