I will call to you in the thorny wilderness,
If only you would comprehend each syllable of my name.
I will scream out in roses laid before me,
If only I didn’t know of the precision it takes to use a knife,
I will recite all the different train of thoughts that consume my being,
Often leaving me stranded in the abyss,
If only I was not a product of emotional turmoil,
If only you could turn my pages the way I longingly brush through those in my books,
But I’m just a lifelong series of disturbing motives,
So I will not call out to you,
Even in my darkest dreams,
Somehow I will find the strength to forgive you when I lay my entire being down,
But until then,
I pray that God forgives me.