God doesn't make mistakes.

So much on my mind, yet none of it will come out. I want to blame God for everything wrong, but he pulled me back for so long, and told me to leave over and over. But I never listened.

Even when I did, I had something better for a moment. I traded gold for water, but I had grown so familiar with the water. So addicted to the taste, though the water was salt, that I gave up the gold for the water, and drowned again. I have no riches, nothing to give to anyone, and nobody to give it to, and riches are hard to come by.

The gold I had may not have been physical gold, but worth so much more to me than any physical substance.

Now there's a nervous bleeding in my brain, that I won't be what I want to, and my shoulders are as tense as toes that hang off the edge of a cliff, and I can't open my eyes for a fear of seeing what I don't want to be true, but I know to be so.