i have spilled blood across the (torn) vale.
He promised me all the things i am
so unworthy of.
(after all, who could love a scarred, bleeding, broken girl
of eighteen, suffering in such a state for two years?)
and He did everything to save me from this broken life
i'm living and for so long i denied everything He offered.
i could take all my pain and it
wouldn't sum up to a quarter
of what He went through. He walked on broken feet, scarred
and bleeding, barely alive He carried His cross to Calvary.
and they nailed Him to His cross, not giving up until the time
was right. (and yet, i can't even keep as even face, knowing
it hurts so much – the pain i feel – but knowing it's nothing
compared to the hours of agony He went through (for me).
(i say i'm so excited to come to
Him again in three weeks
time but i just want to walk away, bleeding and content.)
words are empty and i only want to
bleed to feel better.
(wounds are bleeding more, the blade sinking deeper
into my skin, and scars are becoming more visible.)
how could He do all that, knowing with just one word,
with just one breath, He could have stopped it, released
Himself and ascended into Paradise? (here i am, bleeding
for two years, failed suicide attempt on my shoulder –
and i say that i can't take it? i'm as unworthy as anyone
but He loves me when i'm broken and bleeding, crying
at His feet, pouring my tears, and showing my scars.)