My Own Prison

My own prison had me locked away

I thought getting high would free me each day

Some people would see me as a mess

But reality is, thanks to God’s good grace, I’m blessed

I have been playing the game so long

One would say I’m beautifully broken

But in this game that I have played

There are no tickets or any tokens

Some would think my life can’t be that bad

Because of the material things I may have had

Inside I was dark, angry, miserable,

Dying slowly, lonely and sad

My intentions were always good

But my behavior was always bad

Objects in the mirror

Are not always what they appear

I have trouble seeing the good in myself

Because of what I’m used to, and also what I hear

Who am I, really, and how am I still here

And it was God that said “you’re a child of mine”

I will renew your faith, and take away your fear