You are the ugliest shadow that
I cast upon the wall
And this reflection barely mirrors the
tangled bones and
twisted tongue behind my figure
Death and his brother have
fashioned a noose
slipped through my door, but
it's my own hands that
wring my neck
Is it true when You said
we enslave ourselves? When
I, free, sold my
wrists for a chain and
my heart to an
unkind sea?
And standing again at
the water's edge, must
I glance anew to the
depths and swallow the
miseries of its blues?
Lord, forgive and heal.
photo
No comments:
Post a Comment