Sometimes
Have you ever stopped and thought,
Why things go and go the way they do?
Sometimes how we want them to,
And sometimes naught . . .
One moment then, before yet, from what is now,
It's in this time, sometimes I see
Myself when I'm outside of me . . .
Looking upon the God to whom I bow.
Emotions run me, something I've learned
An instrument of love and hate,
I'm an example of the perfected mistake,
And my death will be righteously earned.
Things happen and happen the way they do . . .
It's not for understanding or question.
This life's a stereotypical misconception,
An indigestion of facts no longer true.
And in this life, God will know my crimes.
I won't try and hide the things I've done,
Won't forget what I begun...
Or how indecisive He can be . . . sometimes
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