I’ve done something awful
I’ve done something sick
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done it
My heart is the desert, and my eyes are the sand in which it has sunk
I painted an incomplete picture
And served it as gospel
Like the seed among the thorns, never to prosper
Like the seed among the rocks
Trials come, and there’s no root
I am a masterpiece of disaster
I’ve painted a portrait of an angry God
And used it as gospel
I know no way back to truth
Except cut the roots
Tear the rot out
Child, where is your faith?
It’s in perfection
It’s in the merit to earn mercy
It’s in a portrait of an angry God
But You’re not him
I claim sonship given to me in death
That tore the veil
Shatter the scale I weigh my worth on
Put the truth between you and me
The cross was the greatest act of love
Oh how great a mercy
The worst of me is no match for grace
Yet somehow, I take my home for the grave
I paint a portrait of an angry God
I find myself attempting to atone for all the wrong I’ve done
I find myself alone, with nowhere to go but down
What is written on my heart?
Is it snake, fake or fraud
Or is it unworthy son who I loved
So deep and wide
The portrait of an angry God
Is embedded in my soul
It is housed in my head
If it takes a redeveloped brain, so be it
Ignite this body, throw me to the flame
Tear this portrait down
May this world of lies go up in flames
© MattDyver