I don’t want to be here.
The pull of the grave is strong.
I’m not sure I can live through this
And all the things that are wrong.

My faith has been broken 
It lays shattered on the floor
A million sharp pieces 
That I will sweep up and store 

Cut my fingers on the thin edges
My feet on broken glass.
It was really so fragile
But I thought it might last.

I don’t think it will ever go together again.
Not like it was before.
And without it I am grasping
Reeling, uncertain, unsure.

Righteous anger consumes
Burns right through my core.
I am not the same person 
Who walked through that door.