I will not succumb to your poisonous laughter, your logic, your games, and I will not lay down.
I was not made to lie down in ashen fields of death, or to languish in the pit of despair.
I was made to grow like a tree by the rivers of water, and to bring forth fruit at the proper time. My leaf will not wither. The very energy of my living soul itself will cause that good, clean love to flourish everywhere it goes.
Dear, sweet God…I am so alive.
Your voice is familiar. I know what it does. There’s been so much water under this bridge…I am too strong now to die now, yet no longer I.
It’s not me anymore. The real me died.