I found God in the rafters of my third apartment that year, as a kid would only think.
To think nothing of everything, fall asleep each night. Glittering swords that spin & white horses predestined. I found God in the top bunk in our three bedroom rancher. Only ten, with a knife in hand. Ready to go back on what we had planned. Scriptures do no good, when you can barely see through the tears, running into your ear drums. Loud as the screaming on the other side of the door. as my sweet savior, wrapped his arms around me. I breathed in tranquility. A sigh of protection. Father I need you now. I'm losing my footing on the comfort that I will not make it anywhere. The bruises on my back, means tee shirts this summer. I'm not ready to face the world. With the wounded eyes of a child, ten years old.
Truth story bro.