Why Lord for all my quirks am I mundane?
Just a blank canvas with piercing static.
A makeshift fool with a penchant for life.
Blood curdled by mud pooled down at my feet.
I long for the days of charcoal and pain.

With lights dimmed twilight I scream at my Lord
begging for knowledge, a glimmer or sign
that it will be okay, and you are mine.
not for a blink, but for the rest of time.
For now I shall pray until you are bored.