Your glory is found in my weakness,
and your pride in my pain,
your purpose is meaningless,
for when your gone I will remain.

You enjoy the cruelty within,
as mercy is what you lack,
you embrace my suffering,
like how I see through cracks.

My body swells from your punishment,
as I lye helpless with scars and bruises,
my heart and soul cry for help,
"Please help me, Lord Jesus."

You pass judgment on society,
justice is your duty,
your intentions are evil,
but they are worse when your moody.

There is no such thing as fair to you,
only you against the rest,
results are commanded by your words,
which is usually death.

You can physically abuse and harm me,
by ripping, tearing, or burning my skin,
I will stand before you and smile,
for I will hide the pain within.