Well, there’s this story I’ve got to tell,
And it’s coming out now
Whether I like it or not.
But I don’t know what’ll happen.
If I let that chic inside me yell
What’ll be left?
I want to do nothing but write
I want to come out
And reveal the mystery inside me…
But I’m just trying to figure how
To live in a world I’m not of.
What’ll be left?
Well He’s right here
And He’s holding my hand
But my original sin brick wall
Is up, and I’m chipping away
Letting bit by brick fall
What’ll be left?
Let’s just let Him chip off
The blocks of my resistance
And in time He’ll enter in
Cause she who seeks shall find
And God knows I’m seeking
What, oh, what will be left?
where did this come from?!!??! there is no way this isn’t a poem as old as time, more powerful & rehearsed than Shakespeare or Homer… or maybe I’m just seeing glimpses of the future. holy smokes, this is amazing. blown away. you just earned your mention in my newest poem/post. it also has a couple other sites you might wanna check out. it’s called “who are you, reading this now?”