The Prayer

Let us begin with a scene.
Colour bleeds away.
Away into a small room,
where I fell on my knees and prayed.

"I have carried my cross to You,
Self-crucified and ashamed.
Naked before the power of truth
and cloaked in guilt and blame.

Voices call from a distant past,
taunting, repeating my name.
I dare not succumb to their cruel farce
of guilt, truth and blame.

You, the man who rose from the dead,
the man who can set me free!
Lay your healing hands on my head
and help me be all I must be!

Give me strength to face the day,
to face another futile war.
A war which eats my soul away,
which takes prisoners forever more.

In the name of the Father,
mighty and pure.
In the name of the Son,
who felt the same pain.
In the name of the Ghost,
who helps me endure,
I must not despair again."

With the prayer being said, I went to sleep.
Filled with dreams of awe and wonder.
Opened my eyes and took a breath,
and the Devil took me under.