The GRIP

It's the Grip of your tender love and mercies. The very ones that come to mind everytime fear trys to interfere. It's the aroma of your freshly birthed out presence that clears every room and once of timidity. An I can even heat you whispering in my ear to " fix my attitude." As I oftentimes fall into a sense of entitlement, as I just so much say " It's suppose to verify what you told me." Yes I am spoiled. An I have grown weary in well doing , Can you help me .

I admit , I need you and somewhere on the way my Grip to you got looser and more strong with the things of this perverse world.