Writings of a Sinner

For all sin and fall short of the glory of God

Category: The Sins


Sing softly in my ear.

Blow gentle waves against my drums and make it mean something.

Drag a fingertip lightly against my skin and draw new lines.

Tell me that you love me and match my ever changing puzzle piece.

Let every breath be the perfect length in between keystrokes.


I want to feel something

I want to feel something break in my hands as I tear it apart. The release might just make me forget for a moment

We like violence because it feels good and I want to feel good.

I want to feel something pulsing against my ear as I wait on each beat. The tempo might just drown this silence out for a moment.

We like the rhythm because it feels good and I want to feel good.

I want to feel something numbing my lips as I stumble through the hallway to my room. My senses might be just dull enough that I can think for a moment.

We like to get drunk because it feels good and I want to feel good.


We’re just digging in the dirt.

And I miss what I’ve never had.

Remnants of our skin gather on the floor.

I’m not convinced that it’s not that bad.

It’s hot and we’re sweating.

These limbs have cold.

The air feels too sticky.

Young heart but it feels old.

No organization at all

To these lies I’m confessing.

I can’t find what I need.

How can life be so messy?

Tell me why

…Im so easy to throw away.

…It’s so hard for me to let go. 

…You blame me for what I can’t control. 

…I’m apologizing for things that aren’t mine. 

…You’re always trying to convince you to leave. 

…I’m always trying to convince you to stay. 

…I’m the one who is not ready. 

…You’re the one walking away. 

Tell me why. 

Breaking Hands

I have broken you with my breaking hands and it was never my intention. 

I am a trap. I should have known. I should have paid more attention. 

But now you’re broken on the floor and I’m left more lost than I was before. 

I have broken you with my broken hands…

It was never my intention. 

Saving grace 

This is where I pray for forgiveness. 

This is where I break from the strain. 

This is where I call on your mercy. 

This is where I call on your name. 

I have stepped off the path with deliberate steps. 

Now I beg you to pull me back into your grasp. 

I am broken and rusty, but you give me the best. 

I am dirty and sick, but you wash my feet. 

Lord, We are tired and worn and we ache to be home. 

No words can say it right except yours. 

I won’t pretend to be worthy to even ask for a drop. 

But this is where I ask for forgiveness. 

This is where I pray for your saving grace. 


You try, but it’s barely an effort. 

You push, but it’s barely a sway. 

You’re known for hard work, but you’re one step from lazy. 

You’re looking up, but you’re falling away. 

Don’t claim to be whole when you’re broken. 

I’d be surprised if they don’t already know. 

When you’re hoping to pleasantly surprise them,

Just remember that you’re bound to disappoint. 


Sticks and stones break bones and find homes in your brambles. 

You flash a wink and throw a smile to crush a man into hopeless shambles. 

Heavy air surrounds your name to leave me shamed and so unclean. 

You whisper softly in my ear and tempt me with your evil scene. 


My eyes tire from seeing the stars glisten in peace so far away. 

I don’t know who is lonelier. Them or I?

What do they see when they look in the mirror? 

Do they see the fresh smiling face of content beaming back at them?

Are they warmed by their own heat? 

Or are they worn by the effort to share their light?

The Lonely Hour. 

It’s that fateful time where you could be dreaming wistfully away into your own reality. 

Or maybe it’s one minute out of many that you lie awake and watch all of your downfalls play out on the ceiling above you. 

Possibly, you breathe in your lover’s hair and find comfort with their warm body in your arms. 

It’s not out of the question that you’re fighting off heavy eyelids during you quiet night shift. 

This lonely hour whispers only longing and isolation into my ears. 

Longer than any normal measurement of time, I shall try to sleep through the lonely hour.