The strong voice of his,
Pierces into my heart,
Not to break it,
But to save it.
The needles he shoots towards me,
Are clean and pure,
Lodged in my heart,
They start to clean,
Sanitise.
I've never known,
That I've already strayed so far,
From the path I've dictated myself,
To follow.
Every week,
With slight reluctance,
I trudge into the large sanctuary.
Time and again,
I thought of stopping completely,
But I just keep coming here,
Back here to listen,
To his voice resonating,
The words ringing,
The meaning sticking,
In the deepest parts of my heart,
To keep me,
Spiritually alive.
Once I walk out,
I'm once again,
Entering the battlefield.
Six days a week,
And one day to nurse,
All the injuries I've sustained,
And clean away all the impure,
Substances in my brain and heart.
My heart is confused,
There's no longer a clear direction,
I need guidance,
A lighthouse,
To guide me to shore.
His voice so powerful,
A line shining on me,
A small ship sailing through,
The ink black night.
Propelling me ahead,
Self control supremely important.
Once I spiral,
I fall,
There's no undo button,
And away I go,
The dark depths of sin.
Grabbing onto the needles,
Of the stone hard truth,
Before the truth,
Leaves me.
