I wrote this while I was waiting for Sociology class to begin. I hope you like it.

Sometimes it seem like your so far away. sometimes it seems like we're all just floating in the sea of nothingness waiting for the hand of redemption to pry us loose. I wait for the hand to break me free. For my welspring of redemption to flow forth. There are no predisposed missions, there are only choices. We choose the road, fall into the sea, wait for a savior. Where is my savior?

We fail so often I wonder if there is a point in even prying loose from the snares that brought us down. My feet are entangled, my sences dimmed by the heady scent of my blood on the pavement. Pooling around my knee that took the impact of my fall. I try to scoopit up. Like trying to put toothpaste in the tube so is putting blood in an open wound. It keeps flowing, further and further marking my falure all around me. My face goes pale with grief. I wonder if there is enough strength left to trudge on. My tournequete appears, binds my wounds and takes me in his arms. I am limp with exaustion but I fly free with his  approval. he loves me, he lets me know it. He sets me right, on the path I chose. My knee scabs over, my head is clear.

I will soldier on!