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He Is Risen










He Is Risen





I came to You as a cocky teenager/
With appalling deep sancti-/
Fied wrong beliefs making/
Me not think safer/
I was lost, beat, angry/
At all these beasts anchor-/
Ing me safely/
In defeat, hatred/
And unclean angles/
Caught, He leaned, raised me/
From harsh deceit claiming/
To be steady as rocks, these feet aching/
In the desert parched, I received grace He/
Indeed saved me/
I ceased breaking/
The laws He deemed greater/
Then my heart's bleating nature/
Christ's arms weakly shaking/
As he hung strong, breathing wavering/
On the cross, preaching bravely/
Before God, pleading blatant/
"Father they know not", these themes changed me/
From a rotting link chaining/
Myself to thoughts that keep me slaving/
For wrong reasons, praise Je-/
Sus for the promise He made me/
And the evil I'm delivered from/
This is one/
Of those times I'm crippled from/
The fissures rupt-/
Uring in my fickle stom-/
Ach, You picked me up/
Made me your unfinished son/
No longer sick or run/
By the opinions of/
That flippant one/
In my head that's existed from/
8 onward, the ripples from/
Unfortunate events are little, such/
Minor things because that child, you lift him up/
With every bitter strug-/
Gle, a simple hug/
And wars, they're the quickest won/
Your sigil hung/
On my left arm, a picture of/
He who saved me from my own ignorance/
My self pity brushed/
Aside with Corinthians/
Now I brag in my weakness with a smug/
Grin on my face, fitting of/
Deliverance/
And now I'm sleeping, stricken/
By the least resistant/
Peace I've lived in/
For at least a minute/
That's facetious, nimble/
For this eager listener/
For all my grief and kicking/
I'm still dreaming Christian/
The things I've witnessed/
Would defeat my misera-/
Ble enemies, but the bleachers sitting/
Them are obscene and history/
They're beleaguered, missing/
Me but I'm intrigued and sipping/
Tea and wishing/
For their schemes to drip in/
To the sewer and for them to be with Him just/
One time so we could dip in/
To our hearts and bleed forgiveness/
For each obliter-/
Ating chink in this, a/
Once formidable armor, but I treat it, grip it/
Like a weapon, a sword, esteemed the hilt is/
A seed that's splitting/
Diseased and withering/
Roots, destiny has willed it/
My strength comes from the King and His is/
The only Word I need to live in/
Lord, happy Easter, children/
Praise Him, because, He is risen/





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