think... think

Self worth, and yet it feels a whole lot less than what I had imagined
thinking somthing in this sea could reach the upper chambers to my cabin,
breached walls, dark halls, cold floors, wet hearth;
this prison I'd built so stealthily has reached an apex in its birth.
Thought be their words I could build up my own strenth,
looking forward eagerly to reaffirming lengths;
but when I'm here, and they're there, and nothing but silence in between,
makes all this emptiness my kingdom - I'm no longer captive, I'm queen.
Really, I feel a need to be better than before.
Felt the weight of emptiness once,
don't want to feel it anymore.
Hands raw from the chaffing of the winds in my palms.
All my exertions have left me gasping, not calm.
All the while preaching: "Peace! Peace!" when there is none.
All the while hoping no-one else can see how easily I am undone.
Because I'm superman, we hold our masks up high.
Taught myself how to crawl on my hands, but on my knees I've never learned to fly.
They say there will be a better day when we won't wish to look.
When I won't compare me to you, where we won't have a 'checkbook'
it all sounds great to me, I'd gradually subscribe;
until I learn that somthing within me has to die.
The mentality that I hold and nourish close to my heart,
that makes me feel insecure and feeble but that I wouldn't dream of letting depart.
Because without it I see that nothing I do matters.
That I can't prove to God my worth, I can't climb spiritual 'social' ladders.
So what is love? What do you offer that will replace this thing in me?
How will formulaic religion begin to apply to cold-hard, reality?
But what is love? Please tell me what is love?
Did Jesus really love the prostitute? Did he eat with the sinners?
Would He eat with me if I asked him? Would He have patience with beginners?
If what I've sought is not real, and as the time ebbs like the sand;
will Jesus fill these holes in me? Will He take my hand?