Again and again I go back to it.
To its slimy and suffocating grasp.
It’s clawed grip on my heart.

Why am I not committed?
Maybe a part of me likes this world I am in.  
Maybe a part of me likes how broken the world is.
Maybe a part of me doesn’t want the world to get better.
My spirit and flesh is weak then who can I fight with and against?


Don’t let me go there again....o please.
I want to be led into that promised land.
What if I can’t make it?
What if I am not perfect.
Not the perfect leader...the perfect child of God.
Why am I stressing?
Can’t
      B r
E a the.

Oh the pain of the grip on my heart.
It’s claws digging deep.
It’s claws crushing it.
Can’t
B r E
A t
H.      E....