I'm just man; just a kid made of flesh & bones wondering around in prison scented with a familiar aroma. The aroma is my weakness. It calls me away from the source of light in the corner; it plucks away at my backbone and replaces it with a new structure made of cowardice and steadfast disloyalty to my heart. I'm just a mortal backed into a corner I made myself. Pin & needles hustle their down my throat & slow down the feeling in my fingers. There is a piano in the back of mind playing the saddest credit songs ever made, and I can't find the exit door. I evoke myself to dredge up the pain and soak in it like a hot tube, letting the water immerse itself in every molecule in my body. Now no part of me is untainted by this sour order gushing forth from the backlash of never listening. Chained tightly to this icy heart, I'll fade back & remember past memories. I'm a lost son of a distant widow, trying desperately to discover the truth behind the scars on my forehead.
I'm just a man. I'm just an out of date mind mixed with a prideful heart, left out to cool for 20 years.
Maybe this cell is for the best. Maybe this flood is meant to clean me. All I can say is "maybe".
That's what it is. I'm just a man full of maybes and soaked in a years worth yesterdays.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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Maybe this cell is for the best. Maybe this flood is meant to clean me. All I can say is "maybe". Maybe, Brother. Maybe. TRULY, all things work together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28) And yet, maybe, maybe... MAYBE it is as such so that the works of God should be made manifest in you. (John 9:1-7) We are all just men (or women). But some of us seem to be set apart for suffering. Don't we? And of those, a few of us ask "Why?" until we get an answer.