Pensinvely mulling over the pages with this pen I grip.
Working until this penship's a mastery.
When did I give permission for my depression to be everlasting? 
And when did I send myself away? 
Please bring me back but without the hurt lingering? 
Exposed you to my broken seedlings. 
The things I sealed in, 
things that this journal couldn't even reveal.
Losing to my thinned temper is the worst feeling. 
Found the message in the ink leaking from these cursed fingers.
God's got me. And in turn I've got you. 
In reality everyone treats me transactionally. 
Maybe a condition of my sinner's heart. 
Sleep the only reprieve I've got.
Working to please God through this mortal's hands. 
I pray better days ahead, 
my feet dredge the path but my heart follows
No looking back. My arms build towards tomorrows.
A Slave to my sadness.
It took center stage,
I was crashing through waves, riding my panic.