HE

A Mess of a Poem

It Flows from my soul to the air

It changes the way I compare

To open my mouth is to open up prayer

It must be fate

The words roll off my tongue like I have no flow

But the words come back to finish to fill in the whole

It makes my heart soar but I shy away from the crowds that hold

I strain to see myself like above 

Because here below Its darkness that fills my soul

The only light I see is the One I sing to thee

Oh how strange it is to know that I am wonderfully made but not for you

For He

Author's Note

This Poem is a huge mess, I really didn't know what I was writing until it just came out. I have a hard time staying focused on something that doesn't make any sense to me as I'm writing it. You may bring out the wolves for this one.