The least

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I am

Silent

I am broken, mere fragments of the innocence once bestowed. . .

Ghost in a room of Pharisee-like convention

Quiet observer of the holiness I cannot ever

Hope to obtain

For my clothes are not like yours, and while my

Heart, is open

For me there is no room.

 

I am

Broken

Mere fragments of the innocence once bestowed

Torn from the dreams I wanted as much as you, yours

The child beside me your judgement call

Shaking heads and whispered words

Shadows of redemption, of which I am not worthy

For I will never be good enough.

 

I am

Fragile

Hidden by a mask you care not to question

Taunted by my mistakes, troubled by truths hidden under the

Lies

Bruised by the world

Is there no rest for the weary in this place?

For I am invisible to your self-righteous hearts.

 

I am

The widow and the fatherless

The crippled and the blind

broken and weary

chained and forgotten

 

I Am

The least of these.

 

I AM.