Gamed inspiration.

I have wings of hope upon which to fly.
Not all poetry must needs to make readers cry.
I am but one in a sea of these people,
yet I stand firm on my platform- determined not to be shown feeble.
I have failed in the past, made my mistakes-
crawled from the depths of real passion and faked.
I am not disillusioned, but I will not despair.
I have a Savior, as John C. Cooper declared.
My Lord gives me purpose, a song which to sing.
Whether whispered or shouted, his Name to be praised.
I am destined for more than this frail world of pain,
with pockets of beauty, of hope, of new days.
I am a child, matured through His love.
I will strive to be faithful, to raise others above.
Whether I be trampled, stripped, or defamed.
I rest on His mercy, guided by His grace.
I may falter, I may fail, but never remain defeated,
for my destination was bought through His nails.
Through His suffering, I have received clothes of white-
through his crimson blood, my soul has gained flight.


That is what comes of staying up late, posting threads to an iTouch game forum wall of desperate poetry. The bulk of what was considered poetry was "Woe is me, profound sorrow, and pain."
Poetry can be beautiful, can be lovely, can be inspirational. Mine is not particularly exemplery, but I have my moments.