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Rated: E · Prose · Emotional · #1305208
A prose on renewal and faith
His Death

I hate this person that I’ve become
But sitting here will only hinder
The change that must take me on
To a life dedicated to the One
Who died on that cross for me
Because He saw this person that I’ve become
And loved me anyway
So there He hung, nails in his hands and feet
His face covered in painful anguish
His heart grieved at the sin He had taken on

I hate this person that I’ve become
I took my heart and tore it apart
Leaving me sitting silently on this tree
I can see the blood stains
They still linger on its bark
It’s blood that was shed for me

I hate this person that I’ve become
But I refuse to sit around all day
So I will get down from this tree
And for the first time I’ll see you carrying me

Your arms of love surround me
Your presence astounds me
In silence I bow at your feet
For your glory fills me with humility
For you took this person that I’ve become
And made me new
You shed your blood
So that I could look into your glorious face
So that I could bow at your scared feet
So that I could kiss your scared hands

You are the Truth
You are the Way
You are the Shepard
And You changed this person that I had become…
© Copyright 2007 Kilikina (wordwizard25 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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