worry too much
About growing this rose
"Will it bloom?... " I wonder
"Under its storming foes?

"What will it take?" I ask
"To grow that precious seed?"
"For it to grow and rise?"
I know the answer, "it's the God that I heed."

Stop smothering it in the filth
Of your own despair
Bath instead, in the light
For the more you force it, the more scars you bare.

burned out past
Is a burned foundation
Nothing to build upon
Except the Corner stone of salvation

Piece by piece
I'll rebuild the lost soul
Of myself,
Is it my hands however, who put it back together?
Or is it someone else?