I've not written in quite some time and feel a little like meeting someone for the first time.
Inadequacy seems to be the cry of my heart as of late. A feeling without words. An experience without a context. Communication without words.
Underneath the still waters lie
A bed of thorns
A place of pain to supply
Disrupts my secret place
Demons conjuring
My peace to encase
Rushing thoughts barely whisper
Tormenting visions
Silently blister
Old wounds crossed
Exposing vicious
Harassing thoughts
Soothing balm
His Psalm quiets the fears
Resting tonight within His Palm
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