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Green bell had queasy strike smell oil
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Leftovers are a let-down.
Picking up the pieces
Of my broken heart.
Left not right,
Caught in the middle.
Ideologies and rumors,
Hearsay and politics.
Wondering what to do,
After it’s all been said and done.
Get out the bread and butter.
Stir up the soup of the day.
Mow the lawn and be happy.
Such an excuse to be gay.
Do you know the secret
To making peace in this time?
Mine is slowly seeping
Into a bed of roses.
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Was it something I said?
Or is it something about me
That causes you to doubt yourself?
Some kind of honesty
That penetrates your facade?
Some truth that echoes
In the halls of your heart and mind,
Calling you out of your slumber,
To accountability and renewal?
Is it the low blows and cheap shots
That I’ve taken at you over time,
Coming back to roost?
Is our relationship that fragile?
Are the bonds of our love that weak?
Is our relationship that disposable?
Not from my side, never fear.
When you’re ready to be mature,
To talk things out and make up,
To declare peace over this war torn
Battlefield,
To move on from this stagnation,
I’m ready to go.
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Twisting, turning.
Emotions churning.
My heart is heavy.
My losses burning.
Oh, God,
When will you come
And save me?
My friends have left me,
And I feel abandoned.
The rejection stings.
Spare me from torture.
Please, Lord,
Let us reconcile once more.
What I’ve said in anger
Cannot be taken back.
People I’ve blamed for others’
Misfortunes
May have taken it personally.
Pressure I feel on my neck—
The bait from enemies waiting
For me to fall.
And so I wonder:
Is having my silly say
In politics or religion
Worth alienating my
Brothers and sisters?
Maybe a little temperance
Could go a long way.
Maybe if I hold my tongue
When I’m tempted to
Jump into the fray
Might win me
A different kind of victory.
One that lasts.
One that builds up,
Instead of tearing down.
One that reconciles.
One for the kingdom.