I know a few things.
I know that being in church doesn't save you
And I know every other one liner a minister will say
I know I'm imperfect
I know what I've done in dark rooms,behind closed doors
And I know what lurks in the dark recesses of my mind
Things taken from a screen and from the mouths of others.
I know of the darkness that they bring
Darkness which permeates throughout your entire being;
That reaches the deepest part of the soul.
I know the pain of chains digging deep into flesh,
and I know what they rip apart
Joy
Sanity
Hope
But I know the Bliss of when they break.
I know about whirlpools,
The hopeless downward spiral,
And how no matter how hard you fight against them you need someone to pull you out.
I know how people see me.
Leader
Blessed
Perfect
And I know they only have fractured knowledge
They don't search deeply
They know as a student does,
Just enough to get by... no more
and I know if they did know their views would twist, why?
Because I know chains still bind me,
I know that no matter how much I rip them out and tear off parts of myself I can't break the chains,
I know if I just stopped knowing and acted I might have a chance.
But until then...chains remain.
No one sees them because I put on fly clothes to cover up
But I know they remain.
They stay because this whirlpool spits them back on me
and I know until I get help I need but have never known I will not know freedom.
I know of my helper and I don't deserve him
I know all the grime that is on me
Blood, tears, and nervous sweat mixed to create my foul coat.
But thankfully he responds more to dirt and tears than to white smiles.
So I'm choosing to stop knowing.
I am presenting to him all of my filth all my dirt and all of its wretchedness.
He will look through it and see me.
This great helper, whom I never deserved, will look upon my filth but see through and find treasure.
And he will rejoice,
He'll take me into him home and give me a bath to wash off all of the dirt that I've flung onto myself.
He will cut the chains and cast them as far as east and west.
And then me, this orphan who searched for completeness in substance and through screens, will be made complete.
I will be washed pure, and with the grime gone I will barley be recognizable because I've been made new.
Then I know that I will be with my helper, my restorer forever, without chains, whirlpools, screens, or any other filth
Just me and the man who put me back together.