poem?

What state am I in that no fall will be grasped?

That the blood from a scraped knee is unable to be seen or felt by me?

Worry and anxiety consumes me, but the weight of my partiality seems far and distant.

The state of my bruised and fallen condition is not made overwhelmingly important to me.

I am numb and blind to the true weight of my fallen demeanor.

Help me God. 

sep 30 2024