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The One who loved me first.

Cut up about this situation, and after much deliberation, decided to leave it not to my own emancipation, but to the One who helps me fight temptation.

Temptation of being self-obsessed,
Temptation of being discontent,
Temption of being full of rage,
Temptation of being immature…not acting my age.

Yet the words he said pricks like a tattoo needle…”fuck you.”
I know I’ve said the same before,
So I decided not to reopen that door.
It hurts, it hurts, but my job is to love those who persecute…my duty is to serve my Master first, and not to let thoughts of me consume…focus on Him and I will see…I’ll emanate the love that’s not from me…the very same love that set me free.

-Amey Europa Pugin (26-04-14)

A song?

Words on a page.
What do they amount to anyway?
Faulty attempts at expression.
Epiphanies being the exception.
Maybe we all just need redemption.
Maybe I’m thinking too hard, too deep, too long…
Maybe I’d be better off if I wrote a song…

He sits with a mask, blank, emotionless eyes…
He lets the sun set while wearing this guise…
What would it be like if I also decided to hide…
How would he feel if I also disguised…
Feelings, thoughts, actions are out of control…
Needing a boundary, some kind of parole…

-Amey Europa Pugin (25-04-14)

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