I see every piece of you that desperately tries to hide behind a façade of freedom.
Your search for identity led you down streets of despair and brokenness,
But your journey isn’t over yet.
I hear your midnight cries for newness, see your shame streaked face.
You would never admit how empty it feels to reach the end of the bottle,
But I understand the guilt that drives you to finish it.
I see the little bits of goodness in your eyes, and see the lightning flashes of joy that disappear just as fast.
You are worth more than you’ve settled for.
Your identity matters to the One who bore more pain than can possibly be expressed in mere words.
I understand that your desire for redemption is strangled by bitterness.
But as much as you try to push the Light away, it keeps chasing you in your dreams, singing your sad self to sleep.
It won’t let you go as easily as I did, and even I tried to put up a fight.
I see a boy trapped in a man body and a spirit that can’t quite settle.
Your story is worth writing, and your soul worth finding peace.
I wish I could wrap you in my arms and protect you from feeling, but numbness never helped anybody.
I wish I could tell you these things without an impenetrable wall being built between us, longer than the length of China.
But things are different now, and these are the thoughts I think of you, the dreams I hope one day find you, as I’m falling asleep.