The Valley

I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

       The chain of Satan wrapped ‘round my neck.

             It rubs and chafes and splits my skin,

                     My soul asunder, my heart a wreck.

My tears no longer leave a trail,

       My throat is dry, I cannot wail.

             The flame of hope flickers low within,

                     It gasps for breath in a stone cold jail.

Which path goes up? Which path goes down?

        What road leads in? What road leads out?

               I feel my mind engulfed in sin.

                     “Help!” I scream. “Send aid!” I shout.

Though I travel through the valley of death,

         I fear no evil, screeching breath.

               My soul is Yours, You dwell within.

                      My comfort is Your rod and staff.

Prejudicial

We all stumble on different rocks,

gasp for air in different seas,

cannot escape a different box,

tumble down from different trees.

Our struggles seem worlds apart.

Are mine harder than yours?

All of them have taxed our hearts.

Every face has felt tears pour.

Although your sea was fathoms deep,

my tree to climb was miles high.

Please hold my hand when it is steep

and I'll hold yours in times you cry.