She’s the bone of my bone, and the flesh of my flesh
But I use my authority to leave bruises on her flesh.
I’m not man enough to handle her humanity
I tell her I love her,
But my actions speak profanity.
She’s the weaker vessel,
But I turn her into a broken one
I raise my anger, and then my voice
When her tears begin to run.
They fall and so does she
Cause I treat her like a piece of trash
When really she’s a masterpiece.
But I can’t see
What she’s supposed to be
Cause my arrogance is blinding me.
But I show up on Sunday,
With my kids all in line
Singing the chorus of Amazing Grace,
As I call myself the Bride.
I call myself a son of the Light
But in darkness I sneak away
So I can feast my eyes.
I open my computer screen and flip through glossy pages
With my filthy heart I give in to my longings
Then with my Bible I pretend to bury my wrongings.
I check off my Ephesians five checklist
But really I’m nothing more than a serial rapist
Forcing myself on the image of God’s creation.
Night after night, time after time
I take what God calls beautiful
And call beautiful a lie.
I heap to myself lust for God’s creation
With every tap of my keys I call His work DEGRADATION.
I go to church every Sunday and call myself a man
While using the precious blood of Christ to mask my bloody hands.
But I’ll go on using 1 john 1:9
Degrading his creation, as I call myself His Bride.
Prince Charming came down from His throne
And said his vows on Calvary,
And one question keeps haunting me
Taunting me
Gnawing at my conscience
As I embrace sin consciencely.
What If my Beloved
Was a Husband
Like me.
But I use my authority to leave bruises on her flesh.
I’m not man enough to handle her humanity
I tell her I love her,
But my actions speak profanity.
She’s the weaker vessel,
But I turn her into a broken one
I raise my anger, and then my voice
When her tears begin to run.
They fall and so does she
Cause I treat her like a piece of trash
When really she’s a masterpiece.
But I can’t see
What she’s supposed to be
Cause my arrogance is blinding me.
But I show up on Sunday,
With my kids all in line
Singing the chorus of Amazing Grace,
As I call myself the Bride.
I call myself a son of the Light
But in darkness I sneak away
So I can feast my eyes.
I open my computer screen and flip through glossy pages
With my filthy heart I give in to my longings
Then with my Bible I pretend to bury my wrongings.
I check off my Ephesians five checklist
But really I’m nothing more than a serial rapist
Forcing myself on the image of God’s creation.
Night after night, time after time
I take what God calls beautiful
And call beautiful a lie.
I heap to myself lust for God’s creation
With every tap of my keys I call His work DEGRADATION.
I go to church every Sunday and call myself a man
While using the precious blood of Christ to mask my bloody hands.
But I’ll go on using 1 john 1:9
Degrading his creation, as I call myself His Bride.
Prince Charming came down from His throne
And said his vows on Calvary,
And one question keeps haunting me
Taunting me
Gnawing at my conscience
As I embrace sin consciencely.
What If my Beloved
Was a Husband
Like me.
dang...dang....the first is a punch in the gut itself...the second a sad reality...but you brought it...wow
ReplyDeletethis is excellently written and it happens way too often.. it starts with loving our own flesh...and so sad when people forget....awesome, really awesome..loved it
ReplyDeleteProfoundly disturbing images/reflections--you got inside this creature's head. I've met his type a few times in my life, and I only hope your last lines come true for each and every one of those misbegotten hypocrites.
ReplyDelete