How do You see me?

What do I look like to You?

Because I see in me, a tortured one, in a dark hole,

crawling slowly out to the light that seems so far away.

Bleeding finger tips,

scratched and bruised knees,

I am on all fours, like a dying animal, about to pass out.

 

But how do You see me?

What do I look like to You?

Not what I see, obviously.

You must think me stronger than I feel like I am —

because you wouldn’t leave me be,

if I were really what I think I am in Your eyes.

So I, too, must think that I am strong.

If you think I can carry on, then I can.

Of course I can.

 

Watch me crawl.

Watch me move.

Watch me keep pushing.

To You.

I will cross all the barriers,

anything that comes my way.

I will fight against hell,

to get to You.