This is me, the happy child,
Also me, the adult bleeding inside.
This is me, externally the unshakable optimist,
Also me, hidden, the insecure pessimist.
This is me, the one who mends broken material things,
Also me, who in anger living hearts at walls flings.
This is me, who makes the special child walk,
Also me, who cripples people with words while I talk.
This is me, who loves enough to cry,
Also me, who walks off and leaves behind.
Sometimes I just don’t get myself,
At times wonder if I could use some help.
There are these incomprehensible feelings,
Actions that seem to have no meaning.
Lord, take unto you my imperfect self,
Restore to me, a bit of yourself.
So that when others look at me they see,
Less of me, and more of the perfection of thee.