Why do you crucify me
with sharpened words, as if somehow
your strength relies
on my weakness?

Nowadays, I feel less like lover
and more like sacrificial lamb
and though it's a role I've embraced
my eyes, are dampened daily with tears
that hold no miracle or favor

if I could, I would pull myself down from this cross  
but you drove the nails in too deep this time, and I
only have just enough strength
to turn this water into wine

I begged you to just hold on, hoping
things would get better with time, and that
we would build a shelter together, but

you couldn't, and
I understand why
but don't fault me because
I can't be your savior

*I would save you, if I could