Confessions

It's not like I had a bad day; in fact it was pretty uneventful. I'm not under a cloud of depression nor in the midst of some earth shattering storm. Maybe it's just the monthly ticking of a woman's biological...well I probably don't need to say anymore. Or maybe it's the accumulation of observations that have no avenue of expression. So, what better way to vent than to call it poetry? That's what the feminists do and pissed off African Americans.

(WWJD?) Blow Up the World

I hate the way I can't say what I mean when stars are shooting by and the music is right
I hate giving my all and slamming into all kinds of walls
I hate the fact that I can be bold when I just do it
I hate the fact because if I'm not bold then I'm something else
I hate that life can be boring most of the time with little pockets of wonder
I hate sitting in coffee shops with people I don't love
I hate listening to their arguments when their words don't contend with my Father's
I hate that I can't love them anyway
I hate that people are afraid of change, real change, the kind that requires a little pain
I hate it when I feel like a fool and the Lord is hiding too
I hate it because He's suppose to be inside of me so maybe it's me that's hiding Him
I hate it when I see a new level but I feel like it's just me taking a step
I hate that most of the time people say one thing but do another
I hate that we tend to fight the same old enemy but in different forms
I hate that I don't know how to cut off its head
I hate it when I listen to its lies, cause they're always the same, repetitive and slimy
I hate the fact that I spent even these few minutes saying what I hate cause I love so much more
I hate that I hate at all
I'll love you hate to death, for now, go to hell