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My faith is shaking,
My body is  trembling  from all these doubts.
Oh oh.. I was getting  strong.
I was getting  there.. But then I was told who I was  not.
And it pierced me. It’s hurting like I was cut in surgery and never sewn back up.

My wound is open to infection.
This disease will make me faithless.
Oh I’m not making  sense.
All these vague poetry words makes me tired.

I am saying..I believed me to be better,
I want to be a child.. Not physically but in my heart.. I thought  I was getting  to be more a child with him.
I called on him the first moment  I woke.

I talked  to him with such awe and wonder  I told him every thing.. About my day, I told him of my fears,  of my weakness..

I laughed with  him about silly things In books.. In the air.. Just silly things you’d think God will not laugh about.

I also cried,  I wasn’t  ashamed as children  aren’t, they can cry anywhere, at anytime, they don’t care how it contorts their  face or how it annoys people, they just  do.
I’d do the same and fall on my knees because  I was overwhelmed  by his love,  sometimes  because  of some pain I felt.

I praised him,  I adored him, I was happy to spend time in the dirt with him. 
Do I make sense now?
Then just the other day I heard that I wasn’t  a child and I was independent. The two things I hate been attributed to me.
I am like drawn back to my old self, at least I think  it’s old now because  I have walked in new paths.
I was told I walk alone and my wisdom is failing me.
What does a child with no wisdom really do?  they mess themselves  up,  they can’t  clean their own behind.
They need a hand to do that.. I have taken that hand and pushed it aside.

I couldn’t  believe  it but I had too and it hurts.. They just cut open my old  scar and now it’s bleeding.. My faith with it.

I think I am trying,  I think of how nothing is built in a day, but I also think what if that’s just my way of making an excuse, or could it really  be that I’m getting  there.. To this place called a child.. But its gonna take some steps to be taken one after the other. I’m not sure,

And so I can’t  talk  to him  anymore or when I do.. Its in silence  and with quiet groanings..because I don’t  know  if I can go on. I’m not good at this and I don’t  know  if I ever will.

This perverted world and its abominations and my trouble is I suck at being a child.

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