I look up to the sky and ask “please tell me, where’s my Father at?”
The only thing he gave me was His judgment and a baseball bat
Looking back, it hurts so much that all I do is shake my head
Take a sip to numb the pain and write things in an empty bed
An illusion wrapped in chaos, this life I’ll never understand
In youth my lens was crystal clear, yet nothings gone as I had planned
I cannot help but ask myself, since all He gives are question marks
Why my mind was once so bright, but now has faded into dark
And though inside I’m stricken by confusion, malice, fear and spite
Such burdens sparked the things I love and what I think about at night
Passion, purpose, paths ahead, for so long were a mystery
An emptiness that I’ve since filled, a truth engulfed in irony
That which now I know so well was always there for me to find
This pen and pad have saved my life, opened eyes which once were blind
And now as I return my gaze to He who only ran and hid
I realize writings raised me more than my own absent Father did
I’ve gripped the future, finally; its fate is under my control
I’ve peered so deep into its eyes, I own its very heart and soul
Its twisted, yes, that in the end it’s loss that’s what has given me
The answer that I needed most: My Calling is my destiny
How the World Should Work 