i found an old poem in notes on the book of Micah.
i haven't read Micah since then so i don't know if it's related or if i was off in my own world.
nothing particularly great about it,
but it's entertaining to read something of mine of which i have no recollection.
might as well share it here.
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broken hands that try to mend
broken hearts all scarred and bent
work to hold the soul in peace
but they're always failing
can human hands heal human souls
can works of flesh fill us all full
what hope is found in mortal man
have we a rock on which to stand
so who are you to stand so tall
in time you know you're sure to fall
this life throws more than just bad curves
all you've gained, what is it worth?
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