A judgment, a condemnation.
i try to create something beautiful
And You rip it to shreds with Your words.
Thanks.
The things that You say
make me feel repulsive.
i can always count on
You to put
me in my place.
You're high and mighty,
Righteously judging,
Holy as the Saints,
Placing
the heathens on the bottom shelf-
that's where i am.
Fat.
Ugly.
Loose.
Rejected.
i may not look a thing like
Jesus,
but dearest,
neither do you.
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