We’re all born.
We have the freedom we’re given.
A separate entity from that we were torn.
From innocence we’re driven.

It started when I was small.
And I thought I had it all.
When age was just a number,
and my measure was found on paper.

A family torn in two
and a heart stabbed through.
Always looking for an answer,
the wound pressed deeper.

I was too young to witness this,
Or maybe it was part of growing up.
The pavement got a kiss.
His passing was seen close up.

The blood poured out
and my mind was rent in two.
I didn’t know what that was about.
But I was scared through and through.

The older I get the more I’m afraid.
When will I cross the veil?
Though my debt’s been paid,
can I get up after I fail?

It’s not about the good or bad.
It’s about the love to be had.
Show me that I am Yours!
Or will I worry forevermore?

If I am more than a number,
why aren’t I getting any humbler?
I want to be better than this!
Fix my aim where I miss.

Make me a better man.
Show me that I can.
Is it truly the content of my character?
You are the author.

So write me into Your story.
Remove the anger and the lust.
Wrap me in Your glory.
And prove to me You’re just.

A sick and sorry shell,
with defiled hands and a forked tongue.
A creature straight from Hell.
Still looking for the song unsung.

You are always there.
We reap what we sow.
Only you can repair.
That is all we need to know.



It really isn’t about doing the good things or the bad things. It’s the content of our character that matters. The worst can become the best, we all know that. If the Content is within us, then the Good will come naturally.

Whole change is necessary.