Short Poem

My arms stretched out, just like You. The pain feels like nails through my heart, dying to that part of me that is not like You. I’m carrying my cross daily. My tears bleed, my flesh pleads don’t kill me. Philippians 4:13, I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me. When I was a sinner, you died for me. I was screaming “Barabbas let him go free!” but Your blood and water covered me.