It begins in the mind—
no harm evident,
no progress undone.
The most dangerous thought:
“I deserve more.”
It creeps in corners left unchecked,
where truth is traded for comfort,
and comfort becomes the cage.
Not fire, but fog.
Not chains, but choices.
Repeat them until they rot.

The slow destruction of a man

too proud to admit fault,

yet too lost to justify cause.
I don’t follow noise—
I follow routine,

familiarity,
what feels like home.
Walls built from compromise.
Windows sealed with pride.

Where comfort lives,
change often dies.
Slowly, quietly,
with the faint resonating sound
of “maybe tomorrow.”

I found peace in drifting.
I became familiar with change
when chasing transformation

left me suffocating.
I adapted on the surface of erosion,
like it’s evolution.
I celebrated milestones,

while my soul stayed still.

Freedom only avoids guilt
Growth only distracts from grief
Purpose is left unknown.

Comparison is not the only

thief of joy.

Temporary pleasure is its accomplice.
The illusion of a quick fix

has a job to bury potential.

I pretended this is okay
hoping it would vanish.
I prayed without kneeling,
hoping conversation mattered.
I stood near the gate without knocking,

hoping my entry was guaranteed.

What good is forgiveness
if I treat grace
like a loophole
instead of a lifeline?

What good is Heaven
if I drag my hell with me?
Wearing the name,

yet carrying no resemblance?
Entering cleansed, yet cold,
Forgiven, yet foreign?

This is not peace.
This is panic.

Maybe it ends well
Maybe the road
turns gold and I force

this leaf to turn.

However, that “maybe”

is hope with no plausible evidence.

The journey is where the

pain of a sin-filled life is felt.

Forgiveness fades

when it becomes permission

instead of redemption.

When the pain of same is worse

than the pain of change,

most people wake up.

Why haven’t I?

A change MUST happen.

I cannot bear the thought
of standing in the Kingdom,
a stranger to the life
He died to give me.