You cannot title her.
For she is not to be summed up.
She is to be unlimited and infinite.

The mercy of God
saved him from
the world.

With his alleged
****** birth
flesh from
light and darkness
mixed in a
good and evil
conflict.

Flesh and meat
eaten.
A member
to pluck fruit.
Wicked lost souls
belonged to
the lower order.

This world delights you,
but you may not love him.
For when he leave
the truth cling to you.

And lead you
to do things
and thunder from
the ******'s womb
might not linger
so that he stays.

Let hymns of thanksgiving and cries of sorrow
have mercy on me.
Make perfect imperfect.

Joy in my heart
is doomed to die
in your kingdom.

You have chosen
your protection of
your wings
to shelter weakness
for there is no good.

Almighty,
Let my words be understood
as they are meant.

Lord If I may ask:
When we pray for the truth
and open our hearts to you,
will you be merciful
before you confess.

You used to make me filled with fear

You sting,
but at least you
could have tried.

Your thorns
are growing,
letting me bleed.

Therapist: How are you feeling?

My answer: Currently experiencing hell on earth.
                      But nothing major, just a slight reaction
                      to the misery my thoughts
                      are dragging me though.

Therapist: That must be hard