There was a time where I wanted to be
everything to everyone...save lives & smiles.
Whether going a step or an extra mile,
I was trying to do all that wasn't done for me.
It never dawned or occured under moonlight,
that I wasn't merely extending a hand-out;
I was chasing acceptance that was missing...
the feeling of being wanted, needed, adored
understood + appreciated...not underestimated + ignored
by the most important people in your sight's eye.
Giving others assistance started becoming my dependence
and like with any other drug, the levels increased.
I started to forsake self for the sake of "help"
Fighting a battle that I can't win with life.
Some people have called me an angel...hardly.
It makes me feel awkward; I nervously play it off...
they say that I speak & they can see something;
how close I am to God...& it helps reaffirm their faith.
Truth be told, I don't know what God thinks of me...
whether He's proud of me, or considers my tattoo a mockery.
I haven't been to church in quite some time,
usually only pray when others need me to do so,
hardly ever speak to God because of my thoughts:
"If I didn't call on You when the going was GOOD,
how dare I come to You once things get hard?"
So my faith ducks and hides behind my pride
and I walk this Earth knowing He walks with me,
but it's a silent journey...I often wonder to myself...
"what DOES He think of me? Am I on the right path?"
And as always, I'm just far too proud to ask...