Ten to One

I am bound to these written commandments,
like how this line must have ten syllables.
I dreadfully wake each Sunday morning,
just as I force this rhyme, men: cynical.

My dress shirt distracts from my faithless soul,
like how pretty flow hides my hate for form.
My head nods, but my mind shakes side to side,
just as I feel closed in a cell of norm.

I suffer through church to go to Heaven,
like how I must write right. I must write right.
Hypocrite; contradiction taints my tongue.
Then came Jesus, in my darkness came

BEAUTY THAT COULD NOT BE IGNORED.

A rush of freedom that endlessly chills my bones
Forgiveness I can’t escape
I now desire to learn about Him,
to learn Him
I’m strongest at my weakest,
when He is all I have
“Amazing Grace,” no longer just a sweet sounding hymn,
but my story
I’m saved
I have hope
I may not matter to all the other people of this world,
but I matter to the One who knows each by name.
“LOVE”
The voice in my head that screams “JUDGE!”
must now fight a choir of angels harmonizing “LOVE”
Though I’m still broken, His hands hold me together.