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There Was A Time — A Poem About Faith, Burnout, And When Your Fire Goes Quiet

Some poems don’t come from inspiration. They come from exhaustion. [There Was A Time There was a time I walked with God like breath in my lungs— constant, unquestioned, necessary. Not Sunday faith. Not verses on a wall. I mean the kind that rearranges your world. I gave Him everything. Every dream laid down gently. Every desire surrendered. Every prayer whispered like my life depended on it. Because it did. Scripture wasn’t ink to me— it was marrow. Prayer wasn’t routine— it

The Bigger, Badder Wolf— On Hypocrisy, Cowardice, And The Evil We Create By Doing Nothing

I used to think the worst people in the world were the obvious villains. The loud ones. The cruel ones. The ones with their teeth already showing. At least with them, you know what you’re dealing with. There’s something honest about open darkness. But the more I’ve lived, the more I’ve realized something uncomfortable: The real damage rarely comes from the openly evil. It comes from the people who insist they’re good. That’s the heart behind my poem “The Bigger, Badder Wolf.”

Only Crown Worth Wearing – A Poem About Survival, Not Bitterness

Some people mistake this poem for anger. It’s not. It’s clarity. Only Crown Worth Wearing isn’t about becoming cold or heartless. It’s about what happens when you finally see the world without illusions. [Only Crown Worth Wearing They never loved your kindness. They loved the weight of your hands lifting their burdens, your back bent like a bridge they were happy to cross. You were useful. And usefulness looks a lot like love to the desperate and the selfish. But the day you

When It Was Them — On Silence, Complicity, and Consequence

I wrote “When It Was Them” as a response to something I think we all do more often than we’d like to admit. We watch. [When It Was Them First it was someone else’s name echoing down the hall, someone else’s door kicked in, someone else’s world reduced to smoke. You watched. You whispered, not my fight, and folded your hands like nothing was burning. Then it was closer— a friend, a neighbor, a voice you almost recognized swallowed by sirens and ash. Still, you watched. Still,

The Story Behind “Downfall”

Every once in a while, I write something that doesn’t feel like it was crafted — it feels like it was extracted. “Downfall” was one of those pieces. [Downfall They say I’ve changed a lot—but I say, a lot has changed me. When the foundations of trust finally collapse, hope no longer becomes valuable. Now I take what is destined to be mine—I will win. Before you point a finger at me, wash the blood dripping from your own hands first. And choose carefully who you place your fai

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