Is there something you need to tell me? Because I've been pining over crayoned walls like child covered night-light halls, like backwards calls to saints inside me. And if you had the balls to lie beside me under stars and ask me what my biggest fears are, I would let you know: you. And where you’ve been, and how long you plan to let me grow away from what you gave me. Or, how long you plan to let me wait for you to save me before you make it known that you're not on your way, before you claim ashamed of what you made me. Let’s be clear, here: you are no king. Your puppeteer fingers are fears on fraying strings, and you’re folding, sticking slick to tears, licking years away. The mirrors that you’re holding, dear, aren’t strong enough to save the day because if seven years is nothing, there's disrespect in what you say.
You know you think like someone’s watching, but you're alone. And do you pray for those you’re losing when the lights are down real low? Do you consider me a liar cause I'm not the things I know, cause I won’t follow you to safety when I feel safe on my own? And could you tell me, if I asked you, what the coldest feelings are? Its winter now, I'm freezing and you’re laughing in a bar. Do you drink wine to count my failures; do you watch from where you are? Have I broken through a hundred? Tell me, what's my count so far? I know you think you’re so much better cause you can wipe away your scars. But let me tell you, sweetheart, you are not getting through. You can dictate all you like, but what's important’s what you do. And while they’re telling you you’re perfect, they’re still singing sinful tunes. Let me take over for a moment, and we’ll see what I can do:

Good afternoon.
Hi. Do you believe in life?
Do you believe that when you wake, there should be someone by your side?
I am
Conditioned.
I need to be force-fed faith like vegetables. I need an eight o clock bedtime
I need a nightlight to hold my monsters in their closets.
I need rules.
Like, let me know if you know this:
“This is the way we wash our hands, wash our hands, wash our hands”
Yeah, I need that.
Please, lend me a song.
This is the way we learn to laugh.
This is the way we keep our promises.
This is the way we know we don't have to sleep to dream.
This is the way we hide when we cry cause
We know it makes us a little more human and we figure
We’re already too human as it is.
See, that is the way we remember, and this?
This is the way we forget.
Like how we don't see what's right in front of us until it’s too far behind us
Like how it only gets hard to believe in god when the answers look a lot like sheet music
Like how some nights, when I'm sleeping, my ribs rub together like they're lonely and they’re trying to make a flame.
Like how they’re pouring bottled up air into plain paper cups and we drink it all up and we breathe it all in like we just cant get enough.
Well i don’t know about you, but there's only so much retail i can take.

Do you believe in love?
Do you believe there is a way to stand and a way to fall, a way to be enough?
I am
Devoted.
See there's a thing inside us that makes us feel and
Makes us think like we know what we want
And there's a little life inside us that needs to let itself be real
But we have thoughts like-
We are confused like-
We don't want to do anything that might make it a little bit harder to – breathe –
So we’ll shrink inside ourselves and
We’ll play hide and seek like pros.
Do you want to know a secret?
There is no thicker cliff to stand on when you stumble.
There is no net
There is no safe way to put your heart on the line
Unless you pierce it through.
As much as you can forget a stinging silence if you try real hard
There’s someone else who knows it.
See, I don't pretend to know what I'm doing here.
I'm left foot, right shoe
I'm upside down like a kid on a jungle gym and
I'm backwards like the way I think my chances aren’t ever good enough.
Ratios change.

Do you believe in gods?
Do you believe there's someone else who keeps you holding on?
I am
Imperfect.
Get used to it; I'm used to it.
We are a few commandments short of sight
We are the alabaster running with the blind
We don't wake up to live, we
Get out of bed to work to get tired again
To sleep
To dream.
We are a few sins short of a misdemeanor nature
And me?
I'm the type of person who wants to be seen just enough to be missed in the dark.
I don’t think I believe in God
Until I realize how long it’s been since we last spoke.
I am redundant.
Do you ever find yourself repeating yourself find yourself repeating yourself repeating yourself?
I do.
I am no astronaut;
I don’t dream to be somewhere else, I dream that somewhere else will find me.
I am a few windows short of a greenhouse effect.
I am a little bit like everyone else.
See we stitch our own hearts onto our own sleeves
Because their lack of self-adhesive quality
Makes us sick enough to scream
And me?
I keep myself in cool, damp places so I am soft enough to mold to fit you.
I won’t bother to climb into your oven,
But I will Tetris-shape myself to match the imprints in your sheets.
I am a little bit less than a saintly balance
We are a little bit more than a black and white
And everyone has their price,
Mine is salvation.
We want to be different; we need to be helped.
Do you think there is anyone who wants to be you
Just as much as you want to be anyone else?

In Jesus’ name, we pray.
Amen.