My Flesh

Daily my flesh dies-

It Cries
The flesh tries…


Daily my flesh lies,
Upon the alter that is life

And I pray,
Fix it-
Make it better 
For It is weak,
And I was told we must die..

Die to it daily-

So daily it dies,
And daily it’s molded…

Mold it-
My flesh is like clay

Malleable, yet sturdy..
What you are making 
I know yet not,
I feel the mold changing 
I’m rearranging,

Growing pains,
That can’t be stopped 
My flesh has died today

On my knees as I prayed…

In it’s place a replacement 
I can’t say that I’ll miss it,
My original flesh

Changed from its conception…
To be molded by your direction 


©Words With Faith2017


2 Comments Add yours

  1. Fasa Nu says:

    Keep in mind you’re an artist and you sensitive about yo shit!!! Go head girl! My flesh dies too! I talk to God so much I should have a bird’s eye view!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You are so right! But as artists we place our art in the worlds hands and trust it not to crush us. Stay blessed!


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