See my Sickness, See the Burns and Feel the Hope

I stayed this way
and just danced to this tune
because I thought
yeah I just thought it was you.
It wasn't until I realized
I made it about you,
just about you
how shallow this all ever way.

I speak about home
and hope about hope
all the time just dancing
in and outside of time
hoping for hope
and hoping to be,
just to be something I'm not.

I never played at being anything
unless it was a part
just being a part
of everything
and nothing
all wrapped into this nonsense
so I could distract
while I detract from my own soul
and not care as I die
all forgotten and alone
by the One Love
that carried this burden
that my crisis was
and seems to forever be.

At the end,
at our end
at every end
we just find we ended where we began,
hoping to find hope
and needing something more
beyond us
and at the end
it's not about us.
With shock and horror
we find that none are righteous
none were saints,
our absurd thoughts on morality
were nothing more than a play,
a bad play on words
while we pretend to know
that we know
when it is we know nothing
and act as thought everything
was ours for the taken.

If I cared more for truth
you never would have read this,
it would be in the rubbish pile
waiting for the flames.
This is an altar,
my desecration
waiting unashamed
in its horrid naked state,
waiting to be told
just how twisted
and broken it is.

If I cared for truth,
I would have burned this vile trash
and never looked back.
But desiring lust
my heart is forever entwined
in everything that isn't
instead of everything that is.

You are not me
and you never were.

You can see me
but you can't see
with these tainted eyes.
All we can all see
is our lack of hope
while waiting
and burning
and crying in here.

My soul's transgressions
are summed up in saying everything
and nothing
all at once
so I am thought wise,
but only Jesus sees me as I am.
Broken, needy, oh baby so needy,
and hopeless without His Love.

I'm not playing at playing
just seeing to be me
and nothing more
because I can't take this anymore.
I refuse to admit to the drugs,
the sex and bad rock
but you can take this poem
and cash it at the bank
and maybe,
just maybe it won't eat your soul
like it's devoured mine.

I'm ready to feel
just the weight of the eternal
being lifted
and to know what it is like
to see the sky peeled back
and the ecstasy
of my soul leaving this cadaver
as I long to hear Your sweet voice
just once, just once more
as I lay here dying,
covered in morose regret
and a lifetime of shame.

Christ have mercy
for I never had mercy,
Christ show grace
to the one who lacked grace,
Christ give love
to the one who made a game of love
and hold back Your wrath
just one more day,
so maybe,
just maybe
these will see Your eternal love
stretched
and cruelly pinned
to cheap wood
as we play this game
of religion and church
as You weep for us.