You don’t need to throw a rock at me to bruise. You can take your fingers – like claws, impress them on the walls of my heart and just pull in different directions. I see, you like this new-found sport.

Like a toddler first introduced to crayon sticks…you go ahead and colour away in waste.

You hit me.

You hit me with your manipulative actions. When you withdraw, simply because I didn’t act what you expected

You hit me.

You hit me with your sudden mute, when you refuse to speak up and pile the grievance in your heart

You hit me with your silence, when you’d rather not say, even when I try to have a conversation

You hit me with your bluff, when you try ignoring me. I feel like you are trying to make me small

The one that made me says I’m precious to his heart

I’m very much aware that I am deeply loved and treasured

I already made a choice that I’ll fix on this perspective

So if your view is different, then please keep it to yourself


Choice still leads to the brighter side of life

Thank God I’m gifted with the chance to decide

Whether to take the bullets or turn in wait for him

Who’ll take these crayons and produce amazing art


He’ll paint the right pictures, he’ll treasure the material

He’ll speak the right words, he’ll act according to teaching

He’ll be a man of authority, a man under authority

HE IS, and finally, WE  TOO WILL BE.

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