This shell of life, this earth You once created to be good,
is a cesspool of need for acceptance, a training grounds
for magnificence to wallow its way down into the bacterial
mindset of I will never be good enough. Our service
to You is tainted with blood and unfaithfulness–we do not
deserve to stay in Your presence. I come before Your throne–
do You see where we are living? Fretfully, I place my fears
in front of You. Take them. With them, I cannot live.
This is the part where I bemoan my state, where I make
excuses about how weak I am, how I always fall back
into tumultuous emotions. I tremble to find here that
my only motivation for hope is the desire to one day
be only half as depraved a creature as I now am.