I am cold, frozen, alone. So I offered up my soul, so absent of caution. I created this sacrifice of my being. Who am I, Why am I, Where is my compassion? I give in, the indiscreet realization that all I am, is flesh, clay with the dimmest spark, of life.
I have prayed, and have made offerings of my life. But there is nothing I can do, to keep my soul from failing, you. This constant struggle, this constant strife, has made me ill, beyond repair of word or deed.
And I stand before you nude. Open to your insults, wounding, and shames. I still stand before you. Take my heart, take my flesh, there is nothing left. I am alone and cold, with my heart strings chewed straight through.
This life was meant for another, I should have been left behind by my mother. Another breath is too much, amen.
Who am I? No one.
Why am I? No reason to be.
Where is my compassion? I have burnt it to stay warm.
Am now, somehow, to be redeemed.