The lines on my face tell the stories my mouth rarely tells. They tell of the apathy running through my veins when I come to the place where enough is really too much. They tell of the nights when I anxiously wait for the morning, like the darkness nipping at the heels of the dawn. They tell of my heart-felt desire to be a reflection of my Savior. Not a marred image, but a mirrored image. The lines on my face tell the stories my mouth rarely tells, but what my heart really feels.
"As a face is reflected in water, so the heart reflects the real person."
6 days ago