my weight
my hair in my face
my scatter-brained way
I put up my walls in silly physical form.
I say I don't care what you think of me
but
I cringe when
I make a joke and you don't laugh
there are awkward pauses in our conversation
my voice carries a little too loudly
I don't look just so
I am told I am perceived as confident and smart
but
Inside I am
small
scared
dying
alone
How glorious is it that the King of Glory
sees the real me and loves it?
And now...
I hide behind
His Word
His death
His resurrection
He tears down the walls in their spiritual form
and I find that I
care less and less about what you think
enjoy quiet reflection
rejoice that I've been given a voice
Inside I am
becoming
more
like
Jesus
