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Woe is me; oh my heart has such disdain. My natural self cries out in anger and wrath.

You have defined who I am , yet I run ramped down the boulevard of self.

Father my souls bleed, my legs shake, but not due to being awestruck by your presence; but rather due to my rebellious marathons.

Father bring me back to a place where I put my struggles in your hands.

Lord bring me back to a time where I did not horde my anger.

I have become jealous over my flesh, unintentionally handing it to the destroyer of souls.

The greed of self stains my hands red like clay from the earth.

Wash me Father, wash my hands, nurture my bleeding feet.

Father I have run a race headed towards disaster.

Place me on the grass leading towards life.

Point me towards your bosom and hold me near your heart.

May I once again sustain my life from your breath, from your blood, from your flesh?

May your precious name ring sweet in my ringing ears, may it drown out the sounds of my own screams?

Take my anger Father, I am angry, I am angry, I am hurt, I am confused...You know.....You can have it.