Writings from the Silent Dark


    “The Beast showed his face again, I cant seem to get his feeling out of my head.

My hands hate me- they throw, push, hurt anyone who confronts me.                                   My eyes aren’t what I want them to be.    They stare you down and make you bleed.           My legs run like I’m being chased even though I know I have His Saving Grace.

My mouth is like the deep space- beauty is there but some days all you will see is black    space.

My heart is not my own It belongs to God, but why isn’t he home.

I fill my life with things that mean nothing why can’t i find my joy in all my somethings? Hate is what I feel when my beast is near. I’m tired of hating myself because i don’t feel clear.

My path seems to be blocked by mountains made of huge rocks Do I turn around or smash through this bumpy unsafe ground?

I’m losing this fight. The fight of survival in a world who hates who I should be and only wants me to continue to bleed. I’m tired of bleeding inside- Please Lord release my pride. A pride that makes me weak. I’m not moving and I need to be.  My cry for help goes unheard.


I’m on my knees and need to be released of these feelings of hate for me.”

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