There I stood,
a broken shadow of a man,
like a jar broken before Jesus’ feet,
I’m flowing under soles,
piercing mankind’s walks with my brokenness.
It is true,
the hurt is skilled at hurting.

At least it is a shadow,
reality would cut my jugular.

I hope my hands are still stainless,
My confidence is lost,
My back is spineless.
Being hurt is painful,
Hurting a loved one is double