I take a glance at my keyboard and ponder what to type. It’s a barren, war-torn wasteland that reigns over these tainted keys; there’s blood smeared on them, a couple of keys are missing, and my laptop has a virus. I guess my minor mishaps are a drawback of typing out the Truth. Somewhere beneath all the muck, gunk, and feces lies the Truth. I’ll let my hands get filthy, my brain defiled, yet I still manage to grind out the day in search of the Truth.
Wolves in sheep clothing preach the gospel to all that will listen; false prophets perform miracles to deceive. This pile of scat should infuriate your nostrils. Hell, it should make you sick! Nevertheless, you lap it up.
Don’t you realize these beasts will devour you? They smell your weakness, vulnerabilities, and deepest fears. They’ll always tell you what you want to hear because they know what pulls your strings to make you move. Somehow, regardless of all the shit in your face, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself…why?
History justifies that people will change their minds about anything. From values and religion to the clothes they wear. When it comes to the opinion of themselves, there is always a confidence of self-worth.
So, where is your worth when it comes to the Truth?