I fill my gut like a malnourished infant, always crying, it's never enough.
Never finding the sanctified panacea to warm my soul to the love of Christ.
Like a misled child, I am slow-to-warm-up - I fear the very thing that cures me.
I sting my veins to the brim with ephemeral potions of lust, hate, and pride.
Cum laude I am embraced by cords of superficial scholasticism and arrogant autonomy.
Swimming mid-distance of a deep lake, I am overcome by a revolting realization that I do not know where I am heading, and I have no safeguard of familiarity to calm me - I choose to end it all.
So I drown.
Down.
Deep.
Dreading.
Dying.
I drown myself in thoughts of 'not-good-enough', 'shoulda-coulda-woulda', 'what will they think', and 'what ifs' of eternal sorts...
What if they don't accept me? What if I am never the young woman that God created me to be?
So I choose, I make a choice. Better to take action, better to make mistakes because then I'll grow, right?
I made many choices, many seemed to be right, but they all seemed to lead nowhere.
I follow the path my mom suggested, it wasn't good enough.
I follow the path the world wants, I didn't like it like I thought I would.
I follow the path I want, I still struggle.
Perhaps after another failure I will finally ask my Father what He wants me to do?
Perhaps then I will know what really went wrong,
perhaps then I'll actually be able to see my childhood Jesus that has come to tell me
"I who speak to you am He."
Never finding the sanctified panacea to warm my soul to the love of Christ.
Like a misled child, I am slow-to-warm-up - I fear the very thing that cures me.
I sting my veins to the brim with ephemeral potions of lust, hate, and pride.
Cum laude I am embraced by cords of superficial scholasticism and arrogant autonomy.
Swimming mid-distance of a deep lake, I am overcome by a revolting realization that I do not know where I am heading, and I have no safeguard of familiarity to calm me - I choose to end it all.
So I drown.
Down.
Deep.
Dreading.
Dying.
I drown myself in thoughts of 'not-good-enough', 'shoulda-coulda-woulda', 'what will they think', and 'what ifs' of eternal sorts...
What if they don't accept me? What if I am never the young woman that God created me to be?
So I choose, I make a choice. Better to take action, better to make mistakes because then I'll grow, right?
I made many choices, many seemed to be right, but they all seemed to lead nowhere.
I follow the path my mom suggested, it wasn't good enough.
I follow the path the world wants, I didn't like it like I thought I would.
I follow the path I want, I still struggle.
Perhaps after another failure I will finally ask my Father what He wants me to do?
Perhaps then I will know what really went wrong,
perhaps then I'll actually be able to see my childhood Jesus that has come to tell me
"I who speak to you am He."
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