Cry For the Broken
She stands on the corner and she prays before it rains.
She prays it won’t and if it does,
She prays for someone to save her;
But what does He even look like?
And as the car pulls over she knows it’s not Him,
But she gets in anyway,
And she leaves her prayer lying on the street,
He picked her up on.
There is no time for real talk-
Only meaningless words and nervous gestures,
And then she does what he paid her for.
And for a while her skin doesn't belong to her.
Her heart is not hers.
It’s for rent like a cheap motel and there is no room at the inn.
She is full of him,
But she wouldn't know it.
She is far away,
Then empty again.
She gets her fix but its a disappointment.
A disappointment, she thinks,
As she thinks about ointment.
And she thinks about the prefix and the base word,
And the magical things that happen with letters,
Because she thinks about things.
She is a thinker.
Thats what she does.
And she knows she is smarter than,
She lets anyone else know.
And she thinks they will bury her with her secret,
In a shallow grave,
And that she will die alone.
Then the ladies pull up,
And she is ashamed.
And though they tell her that Jesus lives in them and that He sees her today.
She doesn't know the love,
Looking her in the face.
Grace is unfamiliar and mercy is so far away.
She has learned to fear anomalous things,
And to stay away from things that seem strange.
Because so much has hurt her.
So the ladies come back again and again
And they bring Christ with them in the form of a friend.
And they pray she don't die before He saves her.