My Father The abyss breaths in the dark depths alone; Disguising itself to seem inviting. The song it sings is that of a groan. The mind contemplates but it is fighting; The trapeze is waiting for your loose feet. Trepidation tightens your shaking fists; The snicker from the gap shows you’ve been beat; The blinding blackness targets and persists. Now it consumes any light of valor left. Under overcast skies I hear Him plead. On my knees He takes my soul like a theft; Awkward hands pray in silence ‘til they bleed. My Father comforts my aching, lost soul; And He assists in patching up the hole.
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