You twist my words until they break.
Stick glue on the bottom of my shoes
so I can’t move.
And cover my eyes with a heavy fog
so I can’t see the truth.
I’m putty in your hands,
too weak to stand up to your never ending schemes.
You find ways to bring me further down the confusing hole,
and before I can catch my breath,
the damage has already been done.
But despite the hold you have on me,
someone else has the stronger grasp.
With each whisper from Hell you tell,
I hear a voice that is far louder,
telling me I’m okay.
I’m not to be ashamed.
As broken as everything inside of me is,
He can put the puzzles pieces back together,
even the ones that are bent and bruised.
You can try to bring me down again,
and though you may succeed for awhile,
He’ll always find a way to get through.