breaking down
every other minute
exhausted
spent
these things happen to "them"
not us, and I'm finding it hard
to understand
this
I just keep scratching
my way up faith's hill
believing
in spite
there must be purpose
in all of this madness
or perhaps I need it to be
so much
if the plans you have for me
mean this
then I hope that I'm saved for something
great
it seems the casualties of this war
are too many
though the blessings still
outweigh
so forgive me when I
break down here
and it appears that I lose
sight
I guess this is when
you'll have to carry me
for I haven't got the
strength
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