Saturday, December 3, 2016


No one genuinely sees me,
Not my depths, way deep down
Knows anything of my heartaches,
Of the chains by which I am bound.

Choose not to share my frailties,
What good would baring them do?
Focus on those who are aching,
But I have a beating heart, too.

No matter the amount of effort,
For some, it is never quite enough,
Cannot please the scoffers,
Cannot quench their thirst for blood.

Labor until I’m bone-weary,
But my work is never done,
How dare they judge my motives
Or put words upon my tongue!

False compassion and lies of love,
Will never fall from my lips,
Though some trickle words so sweetly,
With poison they most certainly drip.

Think that they have deceived me,
But my eyes are open, unobscured,
For I will willingly be bled dry,
For the cause of those I love and serve.

True compassion has no limits,
Does not judge, but to all extends,
Holds back its biting and gnashing,
Means do not justify an end.

I answer not to men,
But only to Him above,
He who formed and shaped me,
Who, alone, weighs the depths of my love.

My path is set before me,
And though they may try to distract,
Each footstep is directed,
For me, there’s no turning back.

No comments:

Post a Comment