to remain
enslaved to my false hopes
of idealism.
it would have been easy
to watch me carry on
for another four years,
twinkle-tapping in sparkly
fairytales that were
never meant to be.
but you are faithful and merciful,
a gracious father
who longs to give of your goodness
and so you broke me.
the well manicured walls
of self-protection
came tumbling down
while my soul drown
in pools of salty tears.
rising up were the jewels
of contrition and brokenness
so that i can stand
in the hope of your love.
