The soul, the way; the filters, the decay

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Without the filters who am I?

Without the filters will I die?

 

Millions persuaded to become something they're not, only to find that out that what's inside....has changed a lot.

 

The essence of oneself is something to be cherished, yet many... allow it the perish.

 

Who am I without the filters? A fragile human, weak and exposed. Sinful in nature, yet eloquent in woes.

 

Though weak and defeat appears to the retreat, my eyes raise to the one who gives me something to eat.

 

Living water and living bread are things my soul had not known, yet he gives generously to those who live below.

 

A love so big, my human mind can't fathom; he died for sinners and provided the ransom.

 

Without the filters, without the effects, without the editing and without the rest; I am but a child amongst bullies, truth amongst lies, love amongst hate, and white amongst dyes.

 

So as I live life and form my necklace of assorted beads, I depend on Jesus who supplies me with strength and my every need.

This poem is about: 
Me
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