When every door you pray would open, remains closed.
When words fail. And hands are tied. When standing strong is a funny lie. When the knocks of life have been one too much. When reality seems out of touch.
Fragile is the heart that reaches for the door. Prays that this feeling won't hurt anymore. That the curtains will open to let some light in. Maybe the flowers will soon bloom again.
Lord my prayers are feeble. My hope is weak. My dreams no longer sweet.
Insufferable silence is starting to sound like a drumbeat.
Give up, give up, lay your head to rest, dreamers don't fit in with those pretending to be best.
I look for a mask to cover up and disguise, those warm tears I try so hard to hide. Is this what it is like for a heart to be battered and bruised? Broken apart in the fun of abuse.
Lord forgive me that I wrestle with your best. My knowledge is nothing, my head filled with empty nests.
Maybe tomorrow I'll walk through an open door. Or maybe the pain will be back for an encore.
Comments