Still I Thirst

Lord Jesus Christ—
I love You.
I confess my sin with trembling hands.
The harder I reach, the more I fall,
yet something in my soul
still aches for You.

Take my heart, Lord—
not because it is whole,
but because it is all I have.
Cracked open, bleeding light,
broken and badly wounded,
yet still beating Your name.

Give me grace—
not to be perfect,
but to be better.
Teach my hands to serve
where my strength gives out.

Help me love You more,
so I may learn how to love myself,
and maybe then
the weight won’t feel so unbearable.

Help me surrender what remains of me,
so I can finally give myself away.
Make me an instrument—
hollowed, willing,
filled with Your Love.

You are the Way
when I am lost,
the Truth
when I have been lied to,
the Light
when I cannot see my own worth.

My heart is broken.
The silence is loud.
Let those without sin
throw their stones—
I am already bruised.

All my life I was told
I was never enough.
So if I still fall short,
why does hope linger?

I’m sorry, Daddy.
I never meant to disappoint you.
I am worn down by names that wound—
manipulation disguised as love,
respect demanded, never earned.

I am tired of strings tied to affection.
Tired of love that costs my soul.
Tired of fighting to be chosen.

I am tired.
I am tired.
I am tired.

Lord—
if this is what remains of me,
take it.

I am gone.