Broken.
Dear Lord, We’re broken. No. I am broken. To a million pieces and nomatter how much I try to glue it all together it only leaves me with scarred hands. Bleeding. Trying hard. Too hard to stop the blood from gushing out like a mighty waterfall. Trying hard to blur the memories that become a little more clearer by the tick of the clock. The memories that crash me a little bit harder every time against the stone walls. Tall walls. Prison walls that trap me in thoughts that are in darkest shade of black. Darkness that I can feel take form. A form so thick with no heartbeat. A form with a foul smell so strong I can feel my head spinning. Slowing down. Breaking. Breaking a thousand different ways. Again. And again. And again. The battles that count aren’t the ones for gold medals. The struggles within yourself – the invisible, inevitable battles inside all of us – that’s where it’s at ~ Jesse Owens Lord, help me keep my mind on things above. Where Christ is seated on your right hand....
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