Your Rebuke
Your rebuke
My wisdom brook.
Like to a rust key
An excellent oil on me.
As deep and sore
Yet they are wings to soar.
When distress like an armed man
Comes with the sledge hammer
To break me- into shambles
They make me bold marbles.
And times hatred come to stay
Your love is my lifting ray.
Weary to stop
They keep coming non-stop
The correction from the rods
Comfort among odds
Hurts by the stick
Are scars that make me tick.
Copyright © Goodness Lanre | Year Posted 2013
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