Ah, please, if you could cut into my heart
And scalpel out each particle of hurt
And grief I caused my loved ones, god of grace
Help them and me, and so excise each trace

Of what I did, or what I then became
In darkness; halting like a beggar, lame
In heart and mind; unthinking, stunted. Why
Oh why, each faltering step, a way

Betraying trust and love I held most dear
Of those most dear to me. Oh god of grace
I cannot turn to face you: out of fear
I hide my self, and so my self's disgrace

Lies in a shambled way; this heart I tried
To still was not my own: by me despised.

So, write another line and break the mould;
This sorry heart beats still, not yet grown cold.