i am loved the most...

as i sit within this chilly room, my thoughts bombarding me with gloom
i ponder all the things i'm not, and cry for all i haven't got
i live behind a shackled door, with unclean clothes strewn on the floor
where the world can't see my broken heart, or how my life has come apart
where order has no place to sit, and hopefulness attempts to quit
where mirrors never seem to hide, the ugliness that lives inside
where warmth and comfort dwell not long, and mocking birds forget the songs
of the happy times i may have seen, and the joys of loving in between

i am hampered down with thoughts of woe, and bothered by what i do not know
and struggling still against the tide, of changing who i am inside
and the winter rain has just begun, so i cry now for the warming sun
which i wish would take my fears away, and lead me to a better day
where beauty is just a fallacy, painted on the pages of magazines
where love is really all there is, how i wish my mother taught me this





but she couldn't teach me what she did not know, and she carried her own thoughts of woe
and she sat within a chilly room, bombarded with her own thoughts of gloom
and she hoped i'd keep my bedroom clean, and all my messy self unseen
and she'd learnt that there was no-one else, within the world in which she dwelt
who would ever show the world outside, the messiness that dwells inside




so maybe it's all up to me, to set aside the pow's that be
and use the gift - given to me, and write for them who cannot see
and tell them of the brokeness, that lies within the ugly mess
which lives behind the shackled door, of those who dare to hope for more
it isn't what you see of me, that testifies to who i be
i pray for all - for unscaled eyes, and pray that they will realise
that there is only One, in which we all should boast
and it is by Him, that i am loved the most. 

for us.