In The Heart Of An Erring Man

Sometimes we get fiddled by life and tend to ask soo many questions...

Well am not good at spoken words, but here I am left with nothing but words. Dear father, here I am again, raising the same cry and the same issue. I thought we talked about this a long time ago, but why still bring it up? I know it sounds weird but trusts me, keeping silent makes it scarier because I am left with nothing but scars. I don't know if you bear the pain while I bear the mark or vice versa. 

Huh, people call you many names: loving father, merciful king, best friend, keeper of Zion, guardian of our souls, unchangeable changer. Of which you deserve, but sometimes I wonder if I should really call u father because I seem less of a son by the things I do or a friend? Lol, I look more of a foe from the inside. Sometimes I think I am just an experiment not yet completed after having escaped from the lab probably or mud that refuses to assume the shape its potter wanted to make 

When a person prays, they say he encounters and communicates with you, but sometimes I feel mocked or mocking you by my prayers, knowing that I'll soon enough go back to the same trash I stood from to meet you. Ahh, it all started as an experiment, and now finally, an accepted hypothesis successfully became an addiction wat started as a sip now ends in bottles or probably gallons, I could say. What started as fun now ends in masturbation and fornication. What started as an adventure now ending in theft and lies, and now leaving it seems like a never come true dream 

Sometimes I thought, is there someone really hearing me? Or am I just talking to myself?  Buh, then they say you aren't deaf not to hear nor blind to see. They keep looking up to me as a model, but if they knew what you knew, they'd probably shun me. They say a man who falls seven times yet rises every time is a righteous man. Buh, you tell me, what do you call one who falls every single second he tries to raise? Ahh, but your word still said your grace is sufficient. Again, you said the wages of sin is death; alas, maybe my wage outweighs the scale. 

Buh, again u, you added that your gift is eternal life through Christ Buh, gifts are given to those deserving, so you see, I still can't be a recipient. Yet u still told me that your gift is without repentance. Oh, wat a father that your son should come and take my messy place and pay for my crimes. Even though I knew him not, that didn't stop him. So then I asked myself, all this messed up? Can your son's life really pay for it? Again you told me to come so we could reason together; though my sins are as black as charcoal or as filthy as a crimson, it does not matter; you were ready to make me as white as snow much brighter than wool. 

You still gave me a chance of sonship, provided I believe in your name. So now what's left? Just come and take charge of what I loved most (my soul), for if the devil gets it first, then I really don't know what might become of it. You said you have plans for me; here I am, father. Work it out sometimes, I wonder, with all this mess? Buh, you told me I was like a stick snatched from a burning fire, yet with wats left of me, shaping me isn't a big deal for you; all I need is to trust you. But the question is, am I really worthy of you, Lord?

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