Why do I hold on
to the things that hurt me?
Clutching them tightly
to my aching heart,
razor wire wrapped around
every bleeding part.

Why do I long for it,
that familiar comfort of pain?
Brick by brick, I built it,
layered thick
in a blanket of shame.

Ghosts wander the graveyard
of meaningless expectations;
weight piled high
on the back of a child
too small to carry it.

To be good, is to be loved.
My eyes swim,
heat floods my face.
To be quiet, is to be loved.
Hurt becomes the armor;
barbed wire holds me in place.

Climbing out
of the box in my head,
dodging landmines and triggers,
gasping for air because
I am not yet dead!

Water and blood overflow.
My heart, saturated with grace,
lets go of every aching part.
Clutching His hand instead,
and reaching for the stars.

The comfort of His embrace
healing my bleeding heart.
Brick by brick,
the wall comes down.
His glory on my face.

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