Piece By Piece v.1

Copyright©️2026 by Omar Rivera Colon. All Rights Reserved. Father… I don’t need another blessing if it takes me further from You. I don’t need another door if You’re not behind it. I don’t need another win if it costs my soul. I need armor. Because the war ain’t coming. The war is here. Every morning got a battlefield attached to it. Every blessing got a temptation trying to capture it. Every victory got an ego trying to hijack it. Every open door got a shadow trying to stand in it. Lord, I know me. That’s what scares me. Not the devil. Not the pressure. Not the headlines. Me. The version of me that wants credit. The version of me that wants comfort. The version of me that wants control. The version of me that forgets every good thing came from God. I know that man. I buried that man. But sometimes I hear him scratching at the dirt. Piece by piece… Build me. Piece by piece… Break me. If it ain’t from You, take it. If it draws me away, shake it. Helmet on my mind. Breastplate on my chest. Cover every motive. Search what’s left. Piece by piece… Make me complete. And keep my feet where mercy meets the street. Give me a helmet. My thoughts been loud lately. Fear talking crazy. Doubt trying to raise me. Anxiety pacing. Worst-case scenarios chasing. Battles nobody sees but somehow everybody faces. Guard my mind. Cause every giant starts as a thought. Every stronghold starts as an idea bought. Every fall starts long before the drop. It starts when truth leaves and pride takes the spot. Give me a breastplate. Protect my intentions. Cause I can do the right thing for the wrong reasons. I can say Your name and still crave attention. I can preach surrender while secretly resisting. Lord, expose me. Before success destroys me. Don’t just bless me. Correct me. Don’t just increase me. Direct me. Don’t just give me influence. Give me integrity. Cause character matters when nobody’s looking. Protect my back. Not from enemies. From blind spots. From hidden motives. From comfortable compromises. From little sins that grow into giants. Protect my legs. I got a race to run. Protect my feet. I got a narrow road. Protect my family. Protect my calling. Protect the places where I’m still growing. Because the truth is— I still got struggles. Still got triggers. Still got moments I wish were smaller. Still got wounds I hand back to You. Still got days I need Your Gospel. Piece by piece when the pressure increase, When the flesh wanna feast and the Spirit say cease, When the lie sound sweet and the truth sound weak, When my knees hit concrete and all I can do is weep. Piece by piece when my heart wanna drift, When pride wanna rise and I feel that shift, When temptation dressed up looking harmless as gifts, Remind me every blessing came from Your fingertips. Cause I don’t wanna gain the world and lose my soul. Don’t wanna build a throne You never told me to hold. Don’t wanna wear a crown that makes me lose my role. I just wanna hear, “Well done.” When the story is told. So build me. Cut away what ain’t You. Break what needs breaking. Heal what needs healing. Teach what needs teaching. And if the process hurts— Don’t stop. Because I’d rather be refined by fire than be ruined by comfort. Helmet. Breastplate. Back. Legs. Feet. Cover all of me. Piece by piece… Make me look like Jesus. Luminaé…