Me And The Me

Each day I run, each day I hide from the me I’ve locked inside. The me I made in younger years. The me reflected in my tears. The me my mother warned me of, “Do what is right or you’ll become.” The me that doesn’t care at all. The me that plans for me to fall. The me that seeks destruction of, me and everyone I love. The me that left me wanting death. The me that left me wanting breath. And in that moment I did see - just how dark the me can be. But little did the me have planned that by my side the Lord did stand. Then from that depth of prison walls I rose up fighting, standing tall. But I have learned to my regret, the me is ever lurking yet. For every time I want to rest the me seems to be at his best. And thus, I struggle every day to try and keep the me away. But I suppose that is my test… to fight until my final rest.