I don’t know if it is a reflection of the change of the seasons or my nature but every dear God is coated in the tears I hold back daily.

I pray even though it feels like I’m throwing my voice into the void. When the sun sets and I sit in my work in progress I feel my insecurities and imperfections grow tall and wide, like the walls of Jericho yet to fall.

I pray despite the bitterness growing in and out of the decay of dead dreams. I have waited and stayed and tried, been looked over and ignored and played the fool just to be in the same place while it feels like the ones I started this race with have moved on.

I pray despite my unbelief. I know you are good, please be good. I have dedicated my life and seen my heart be changed yet it feels like so long ago that I tasted joy.

These desperate

whispered prayers.