God grant me the humility to accept my place in this incoherent world. Every time I try to correct another is three strikes against my soul. The world belongs to Satan. I will never belong. The world is a record, and I hate every song.
Everyday is a new beginning, but it all ends the same. The only button that works on my clock is replay. I hit snooze on the record. Try to collect my thoughts. Make strides toward my penance then it’s back to the same old song.
I try to dismiss the drama, the merry-go-round of blame. There’s a knock at the door, who done it? I’m back to the ward in chains. Who am I, in my right mind, to correct another. I can only correct myself. I can only be who I want me to be and pray for everyone else.
And write hymns of grievance, and songs that light up the night. As I sit back and play my own record. And tune out the Godless fight.
TheSeedSowerz 
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