Mirror to God

I am feeding off this sick and twisted, masochistic feeling of liking this...

Self inflicted cuts and bruises scars and scrapes and burns.

Soul Damage

He knows how to rake me in and tell me that I love every minute

That's how I know that I'm alive.

But my keeper weeps and heals me with his tears

He carries me and he calms all my fears

He loves despite and he's the only one that can

Cuz he's perfect and he is not a man

My keeper cries and I try hard to understand

Why do I lie to myself and unto him

Why do I try so hard to map out my own plan

When his is so perfect…and he is not a man.

I am living off this self indulgent expose' of what I call a testimony

I genuinely cannot find that bold and bright invisible line of what's the truth And all his lies

When comes the time to disconnect and feel far from God but in his respect

Im closer than ever before I

know my keeper knows what's best and I should listen

But I fear that what I hear sometimes is not him

And if I'm his only then the voice I hear should be distinctly his

Cuz it's perfect and it sounds not like a man

My keeper screams at a pitch that could break this mirror

But I keep looking into it although it distorts my figure

I just want something with texture to hold on to just to know you

Cuz you're perfect, and I want to feel you