Poems, Poets, & Poetry.

Shame

I don't understand a lot about my life, my friends call me ignorant and pure.
If only they knew what my own hands have done – would they hesitate to call me a whore?
My mind skips all sense – as my heart begs for love.
And I will never understand, why it hurts.
Yet the more I know, the more I hate every bloody inch of my frame.
And the more I gain, the more I wish it all away.

The more I think in-depth, the more I wish I didn't think at all.
Why can't I see that I hurt myself, why can't I grasp that they use me?
And how many times will I fall just to drown in the pain I create for myself?

I need more of your spirit, I need less of myself.
I need more of your spirit, I need less of myself.
I need more of your presence. Till I leak, please dear Jesus I cry out for help.

I wish I could say I was free from shame.
I hate my flesh, I hate my name.
I wish I could say I was free from shame.