i write best in red
ink staining my fingertips
bleeding onto innocent white
spiral notebook paper.

i am full of so much
teenage angst and bullshit
spilling onto blank screens—this is how
i waste time.

i am not half as good
as i ought to be, as i
want to be—i need to find
Your way.

when i was young
they said You would always
hold me in Your palm—i ask
why would You?

i hide my face from You
because i am so worthless
that You can’t possibly
want me.

i am not worth the dust
of this earth, this breath,
this blood You gave
to me.

if there is any talent
in this confused and awkward girl
i give it all
to You.

i need to find
Your way.

a/n: i am just a frightened child desperately clutching Your hand, unable to look You in the eyes to see if You approve of me.