War Cry

Life is a battle that we’re all going to win or lose,
it seems the only thing destined is our right to choose.
I’ve taken some injuries and I know what it’s like,
to have a beaten body just from fighting at night.
My eyes became weakened by all the searching to see,
a way to justify an existence only pleasing to me.
My hands got bruised by punching shadows and smoke,
I can’t understand people who think it’s all some joke.
My feet grew sore from always running in place,
hopelessly trying to somehow elude those fears of disgrace.
My heart was broken like it was shot by a gun,
from an enemy who couldn’t even stand that I indeed had one.
But I’ve surrendered the pain and become at ease,
with the tears down my face and the dirt on my knees.
I had begged for my life but I got Yashua’s instead,
His love is for real and it will never once be found dead.

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