Things seem just out of my arm’s reach. I need to come strong, but then that would be a strong arm, and that’s robbery.
Maybe I’m wrong because they have been robbing me for years, but still, two wrongs don’t make a right. Fighting for justice is one hell of a fight.
I tried to turn the other cheek, but that only made them label me weak, so now I try to watch each and every word I speak because it’s the truth of the matter that I seek, not the back door out you sneak.
I believe this is what it’s like being powerful with a pen, being able to pick a fight or gain a friend (in Christ for life).
