Why did the Lord choose to make me this way?

I try so hard to suppress what makes me what I am.

And yet...

still that one tear slid down my face that night

and like all the others I cried before it I want it damned.

Why Lord did You choose to make me feel?

Why couldn't I be hollow, an arctic soul?


feeding on my superiority to the writhing beings around me?

those desperate for something - or someone - else to fill a lonely hole?

Why did You make me one of them?

Struggling to conquer this snare?

to bilk

the chains that bind me to my own accursed heart?

whose calluses fail to shield it from being again laid bare?

How am I to live your command?

Shall I suffer that which I fear most?


You said nothing will be beyond my strength in You,

words encompassing my plight of them drawing too close.

In You Lord, I am immortal.

Let not my wounds forever sting.

heal me

when this hour of self-sacrifice relents its torture

and let the blood of my crux return to incite my wings.