I want to see myself as perfect,
But the truth is,
I fall very short,
Being better than some is never good enough,
And I tend to ignore my faults,
Too lazy to spit the poison out,
It wouldn’t be too hard to change,
But I parade my strengths,
In a chain,
That becomes costume jewelry,
When treated as all I am.
My paper heart crumples,
Under the weight of this shame,
Quicker than it burns,
In the flames from my cheeks,
Nothing is unforgiven,
And no one can judge you for your struggle,
For who can say yours is worse than mine?
My voice croaks and dies,
In the effort to speak my sin,
And my head falls back,
Unable to rise and pronounce,
For I know my brothers will not forgive,
As my Master does.
As I have been guilty countless times,
In the same overbearing spirit,
Forgetting the weakness of the soul,
My own heart’s love of the forbidden,
And secret feedings on decadence.


Sins are meant to be accepted,
As what they really are,
Not hidden, nor flaunted
For there is no guilt is Christ,
Rise and rejoice,
Knowing you are free,
For the Lord is with you now,
He is able to keep you from falling,
Though you fall again,
You are not lost.