hypocrites prayer

"Thy will be done
on earth as well as heaven"

Each day I pray this
before my meal at night
but I still want my own will
and for that I'll fight.
I pick my own job
because the Sundays pay well.
It started out good,
but then that job fell.
I chose also to date
someone that God didn't choose
and in that scenario
I really did lose.
I was looking for homes
and I found one that was nice
it wasn't near a church though
and I moved against my parents advice.
It was soon after I noticed
how things were always so wrong
It confused me sings I've been
doing Your will for so long.


Hey, this is my sad attempt at doing poetry while being bored tonight. I'm actually really tired... too many late nights in a row.
This poem doesn't really flow at all, but you can kinda get what I'm trying to say... I hope. lol

Beauty.

Struggling
and falling
inside.
The mirror taunts
with insecurities
The magazines
they mock,
showing the world
what they should be.
The scale,
always haunts.
I see a dark world
where beauty matters
and if you're not beautiful
you're not worth something.

I look away
from the sinfulness
and decide for once
that it doesn't matter.
Deep inside
they're not happy.
No reason to live.
But I have hope
and in Christ,
I'm beautiful.

...

Cold winds around me
grey clouds swirling,
tree's billow round
that set their leaves twirling.
The first drop on my arm
making a cold proclamation
many follow after
my clothes in wet saturation.
The cold seeps in slowly
and the rain runs off my face
I hurry my steps onward
to get out of this place

Looking to Jesus.

Slowly crawling by
looking all around
seeing the color pass
the world spinning round.
Their lives are shades of black and white
their voices hold no tune
their eyes shine with no glimmer
and to joy, they are immune.
Screeching piercing cries ring
are heard by one and all
they don't know what to stand for
so to anything, they will fall.
They hold stone and wood
which is also black and white
and even when no response comes
they worship with spite.

Colors walk on past the grey
but do they stop to listen?
To the echo's of the hurt and pain
and see the eyes that glisten.

Hands that come to pick them up
are rejected with a hate
and still the echo's resound
of their everlasting fate.

Other grey come alive
as they reply the song
and with the other colored ones
they walk in joy along.



It means something, you have to tell
sometimes in a whisper, others a yell
Its all one big mystery to those who can't see the picture
We can only see the colors beneath, in a tangle and mixture.
You're being used, to pass it on to the grey
to become color, we always hope and pray.

Our Father

First off, sorry that I haven't posted much in a while... I got some comments that my blog has been lacking. Hopefully that'll change and I'll be posting more in the next little while.

This past weekend at AOC was amazing! I made tons of new friends (who I'll always remember!) I was able to see a whole bunch of my friends from before, we had an amazing time with the songs that were picked out, the discussions and our groups were great! (Amazing leaders! Justine and Graham! :-D)
For the last discussion, we were asked to write on a piece of paper, our version of the Lord's prayer. Here is mine.

Our Father,
who watches over us,
holy be Your name.
May Your kingdom come
and only You have the fame.
May what you want
play out in my life
being thankful in good times
and humble with strife.
Give us what we need,
to get through each day.
Please help us to forgive others
and even for them pray
When temptations come
help us not fall.
But we know You'll be here
and with us through it all.
You reign over the universe
may all the glory be for You.
In every single thing we say
and in all that we do.