Weeds
.The sun, foot traffic and meddling dogs, all these I've survived.
You want to see me die and you hate that I have thrived.
I am a weed and you can't stand my life.
In your opinion my presence is nerve racking and strife.
You take time to labor and sweat underneath the sun
until the number of weeds you see will ultimately be none.
Your hands pinch my stem and attempt to uproot me from the ground.
You're seeking my demise and you hope that you have found
an effective way to rid me from my place.
But just like the sin in your life, I'm a stubborn case.
We're both fighting for our lives and one of us has to die.
I'm a weed and just like sin I won't idly stand by.
I must grow, intrude, and invade wherever I can.
I must be this way in order to fulfill my master's plan.
He cares for none and all he wants is to steal, kill and destroy.
Sin, just like weeds, aren't modest or coy.
We start off small and then to a fallen Christian's surprise
we've taken over a lot of ground and have the advantage to their demise.
So if you see any weeds cropping up in your soul
rid us from the root immediately to avoid our control.