Lord, I give you the interpretations I have created to manage pain.
Every villain I have reduced is known in complexity by you. You alone are fair.
I have sub-created a grand story so that I might survive the constant ache in my chest.
I have flattened and compressed the past out of self defense.
I have set up a framework that has justified my yank at the reins.
I have allowed my loneliness to accuse.
But you see with utter clarity.
The past I’ve commandeered is yours.
Show me what to believe.