Still-Born in the spirit

I am part of this still born generation

One that’s been lost their whole lives

Looking for that freedom that never seems to come

That peace you so desperately search for in secret

But never find

Like the solitude of an empty beer

And the reincarnation of irony

I am the voice of the lost and dead once tucked away into bed

But as I am rebellious to get into trouble

I am indeed rebellious to get out as well

I search for passion and cling to something that seems real

An idea before it got marketed

A glimmer in the eye of the poor

I am still-born in the spirit

And I know this……and it’s because I am an anchor to sin

An anchor to my past

And a testament to the hypocrites

I am what I appear to be, but yet I have layers

Layers no one has really seen

Because those layers are uselessly tied up to a dock

Weighed down by sin I am useless to my cause

Sad part is I know I am

But will I man up to the man God wants me to be

I am tired of being still-born

I now crave to be just born

So I can paint you a canvass with my stories

And give you breathe,

like he gave me.