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By @Lion-Hearted

A poem


By: Mary Cernyar

Age 14, 12/22/2018.

So many thoughts,

Ideas swirl all around.

Everyone is searching,

For Perfection to be found.

People tell me I’m perfect.

Just the way I am

But I can’t believe them

Neither does the Risen Lamb.

I work and I slave,

I always try to do my best,

But I never measure up.

Just like all the rest.

I am chained to my sin,

My wrongs hold me a slave.

And slowly they are pulling me down,

Closer, closer to my grave.

I call out for help!

For one to set me free!

But none are found perfect

In all humanity.

I will never be enough,

I can never make it on my own.

Then He reached down,

To melt my heart of stone.

I looked into His eyes,

Ashamed of all I’ve done. 

He can never love me,

The despised and horrid one.

And then He wipes my tears away.

And looks into my face.

“I love you,” he says

“And now, receive my Grace.”

“It was of your wrongs,

That I died that day,

But I did it out of love,

And washed your sins away.”

“I have set you free,

Now come, My Daughter;

Come and follow Me.

Taste of Me, be satisfied, your Living Water.”

And so He gently takes my hand,

And holds me in His arms.

I never fear or am afraid.

I know I’m safe from harm.

So maybe Imperfection is okay,

It takes away my pride.

I still mess up to this day,

But He holds me close by.

Because of His perfection, I’m perfect,

In His eyes forever.

His blood has saved me,

He will leave me, never.

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