How do you see me through your eyes?
Are you ashamed of me?
They say you suffered on the cross and paid my penalty.
Circumstances.
Second chances.
I live my life on repeat.
If you’re the God that they say your are, can your hand reach me?
In a time of my emptiness.
Through the faults of my wickedness.
For the lack of my gratefulness.
Can you make it stop?
I saw you suffer on the cross that night, as I laughed and mocked the sight.
I saw the flesh ripped from your back.
I joined the masses with a heart so black.
Was the weeping and the grieving intended for me?
I am a killer of the innocent.
A growing plague, a pestilence.
I am the thorn that chokes the seed.
The spiteful crown that made you bleed.
When the ground consumes this waste, remember me in the holy place.
I saw you suffer on the cross that night, as I laughed and mocked the sight.
I saw the flesh ripped from your back.
I joined the masses with a heart so black.