Screaming Praises.

First things first; yes, I totally "re-decorated" my blog, and yes, I changed the name of it, too. Now that that's out of the way, let's get down to business. To defeat the Huns.


I've been listening to a lot of Levi the Poet lately, and he sparked my interest in writing poetry again. (If you've never heard of him, listen here. You won't regret it, I promise.) But not boring poetry like Shakespeare. (Sorry if you're a fan of Shakespeare...I just find him rather dull.) Slam poetry is the bomb.com. It's raw and full of emotion; there's a realness to it that you don't really find in your standard stanza. And it doesn't even have to rhyme. (That's my favorite part.)

So I thought I'd share with you a piece I just pounded out, myself. It's slightly lengthy, but it pretty much explains everything I've been burying in my heart for quite some time. Of course, it sounds better when spoken, and maybe I'll make a video for it later, lol yeah right I'm terrified of speaking in front of people, but I thought it would be somewhat nice to actually have it written down somewhere. So. Here you go.
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Screaming Praises


You know, it's hard to understand something when you've never experienced it yourself.
Yet they continue to write you off as a freak, because of your scars,
they think that you're weak.
But I'm seeing you as you really are, darlin'.
I see past your smiling face, your eyes aren't lying.
And for one small second, for one brief moment...I could see
your soul was hurting.
But I'm not supposed to know that, am I?
You gotta put on your mask so people don't ask
about how you think you're less than deserving
Or how you're wearing long sleeves in the suffocating heat of the summer
when you know perfectly well that it's tank top weather.

You're sitting center aisle Sunday morning, listening to them
preach about a God who loves the unloving
But you're silently screaming HOW COULD HE LOVE ME?
I'M THE WORST OF THESE, I'M NOTHING
And you hear them singing praises, but
you can't bring yourself to even raise your head,
so ashamed of the shell you've become.
Every Sunday it's the same, going through the motions never felt
as comfortable as it does today.
"Yeah, this is all fine and well," you say
"But when I get home I've got a date with a razor blade."
This artificiality is more than you can handle right now
and it's getting harder and harder to keep up the charade.

Sweetheart, I know where you're at, I've been there myself
It's draining, I know, to bottle up these emotions
and place them on a shelf to deal with another day.
But that day comes sooner than you think,
You get blindsided by someone faster than you can blink
Asking, "What'd you do to your arm? You alright?"
And you feel like ripping off your sleeve and screaming,
I'M NOT OKAY, IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED
TO SEE? YOU PREPARED FOR THIS SIGHT?
LOOK AT WHAT SOCIETY IS DOING TO ME.


And you're sitting alone on your bed, praying to God
to get you out of this mess.
The razor's in hand and you're ready to slice open your
emotions, not caring about the consequence.
Your heart's screaming, DO IT, JUST DO IT.
YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF CRAP
And you rip open your skin, and with a bandage you wrap it;
crying and telling yourself that you'll never do it again.

And the numbness goes away and the pain kicks in.
The physical pain is somewhat bearable, you've grown
immune to it, but
that emotional hurricane just explodes out of you and tears
you to shreds, and you're screaming
COME ON, GOD! WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF?
WHY AREN'T YOU HERE WITH ME NOW? I NEED YOUR
HELP.
And you fall to your knees as the sobs wrack your
body and you can't help but feel like you don't have anybody.

Darlin, let me tell you something someone once told me
when I was doing a little soul-searching at a time
where I felt like nothing.

God loves you.

You're His baby, His angel,
and He thinks you're lovely.
And His heart is hurting every time you run that ice cold blade
against your skin.
And His heart is hurting every time you stick your finger
down your throat so you can be thin.
And his heart is hurting when you take that sip to drown
out the lies.
And His heart is hurting when you feel like pulling the trigger
and closing your eyes...forever.

He's gonna carry you through this, I know He will
And you're gonna come out of this stronger and more beautiful than before and
you'll be screaming his praises. Even if it's barely audible, He knows you're singing...
...Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
...Praise Him, all creatures here below;
...Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
...Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost...
...amen,
...amen,
...amen,
...amen.