If you knew me....

You don't know me.
You think my silence means I judge.
You think I'm shy because I don't speak.
You don't know me.
You think my constant laughing means my head's full of air.
You think I like all corny jokes.
You don't know me.
You think my gaze is a blank stare.
You don't see my eyes searching for your soul.
You don't know me.
You think my smile means I'm happy.
You think I'm laughing at you.
If you knew me--
You'd know I'm silent because I'm pondering.
You'd know I can't ever think of the right things to say.
You'd know I'm bursting with questions, waiting to flood out.
You'd know I want you to speak to me--I want to know you.
You'd know that I'd never judge you for being who you are.
If you knew me--
You'd know I laugh for many reasons.
I laugh when I'm embarrassed.
I laugh when situations turn awkward.
I laugh to try and make people comfortable.
I laugh because I love the people I'm with.
I laugh because of the silly thoughts running through my head.
I laugh because you said something that made me laugh.
If you knew me--
You'd know my eyes are searching you, trying to dig deep.
You'd know I'm memorizing every detail about you.
You'd know that I need to stare in order to think deep thoughts.
You'd know I'm trying to let you know that you're important.
You'd know I'm trying to understand your feelings.
If you knew me--
You'd know I smile to make others happy.
You'd know I smile to hide my tears.
You'd know I smile because God is good.
You'd know I smile because I am happy to see you.
You'd know I smile because it's softer than a laugh.
You'd know I smile because of my secret thoughts.
You don't know me.
If you knew me....

The Dead Life

This is something I wrote a while ago that I just found a few days ago.

I want to ignore you
and let you go,
to pretend you never happened--
but you're clinging to a piece of my heart--
a piece that can't be forgotten.
We stretched apart,
though you're close to my heart,
and heaven knows why--
you weren't ready for me--
not my kind of guy--
you still need to see the Light.
I pray for you,
oh I pray so hard,
hoping every day,
that God will somehow
change your heart--
then once again bring you my way.
But until that day,
if it ever comes 'round,
my heart is broken and bound.
I'll let myself die,
and let you live,
in the power of Christ
that I've found.

Snowflakes

I'm wishing I was a snowflake,
blown here and there by the wind.
They don't have to wonder
if they're good enough--
if they'll ever succeed,
if anyone really likes them for who they are.
They don't get criticized for
making easy mistakes.
They're unique and beautiful,
in their own ways.
They never have to put on a mask,
trying to hide their real feelings.
They don't have to pretend
to be someone else.
They don't have to decide
what they want to do
and what God wants them to do instead.
They have no guilt, no fear,
they never make wrong choices,
they're not disrespectful,
they don't disobey,
they don't get emotional,
they seem to have it perfect.
They don't have to worry about
falling in the wrong spot--
God directs their every move.
And yet, at the same time,
since they have no guilt,
they have no joy,
they have no love,
they don't get a chance to make a right choice,
they never get to show respect,
they don't have the option to obey,
they don't get to feel with others,
and I have to question if
they do have it perfect.
Maybe being me is better...

S[truggle]s

You've changed.
No longer does your light shine as bright.
What shadow has covered you?
Why have you become dim?
I looked up to you,
thought you could guide me.
You've been hit, from behind.
Not by a playful snowball,
but with the reality of life.
I pray that when you realize
that He will hold you
through all struggles,
you will come back.
To me.
And be my friend.

Noodles

I can't ever tell you how I really feel.
You make me so happy,
the homing device on my
GPS when I lose it.
And yet you have not a clue.
To you I'm just another mime--
someone you can rant to
and get distracted by.
You frustrate me.
I want to see you happy,
and yet your happiness kills me.
It's like a slap in the face,
but a slap you don't intend.
You led me on
without taking a step.
My hopes and dreams
are shattered by yours.
I guess sometimes
there's only one happy ending.
I want you to have it.
I thought you were the one,
but you were just another noodle in the bowl,
trying to float to the top.
Somewhere along the way,
you got picked to go
to the new land of happiness
and dreams fulfilled,
but I got left behind.
I guess me and my
noodle friends will just
stick closer than ever--
there's safety in numbers.
Maybe there's still a chance,
maybe I'll float--
but as for you,
have a happy life
in the world I may never see.

Rise

Rise and stand!
Pick up your feet!
Today is the day we die.
Not to life,
no, not you or I--
we fall dead to a lie.
A lie pervading not minds
but souls--twisting
the truth of our hearts.
We follow not culture,
nor tradition or expectation,
but direct our feet towards One.
Why do we wallow in shallow thoughts,
tangoing with lust?
Why all the facade,
the showy performances,
the masks covering our imperfections?
He has said,"my power is made
perfect in your weakness".
Why not take the chance,
reveal all the flaws,
show the real people inside?
Rise up and stand!
Show the world!
Change is a verb--
we're a work in progress--
fully loved for who we are--
yet expected to conform
to His likeness.

Just another Cinderella

She's waiting for a second chance,
doesn't want it to pass in the blink of an eye.
She feels invisible, maybe he just didn't see her,
one day as he walked on by.
What if to him she's still just Cinders,
he hasn't noticed the glass slipper yet?
Is there any hope for her fairy-tale ending?
Or should she just go back to bed,
trying to drown out her sobs from the world,
as they laugh her down to the floor.
Why did she ever think there was hope?
Happy endings are only folk-lore.
Sure, the romances, adventures, and mysteries
will lead you on a merry chase,
but in the end it's only another tale,
made up from someone else's fantasy--
no matter how real it looks.
She's stuck in the unfair fate
of the left-behind and unwanted.
Was it her fault Mr. wrong played her
then shoved her to the back of the shelf?
Will her knight in shining armor ever show up?
Or did he just loose his directions?
She kneels down, trying to ignore the voices,
shoving the confusing murmurs aside.
She knows her true knight,
not the kind in medieval history,
has already rescued her.
He wasn't Mr. wrong--
he treats her with respect.
He didn't get lost,
he's with her yet.
She doesn't need a second chance,
he kept her on the first.
She's his most precious possession,
he gives her worth.