I call thorns!
I call thorns, come and lie with me
I call thorns comforting,
For I dread the pain that comes with healing.
Stabbed and sliced by the budding of trees
Mind-trapped in chambers of hyperbole
Shade of the branches a cover for me
I call their comfort pure agony.
Ingratitude is my vice so vile
And I'll wander forever a self-orphaned child.
Thorns for this branch that has fled from the Vine.
Thankless the roots drunk on grace like cheap wine.
I call thorns!
I call thorns, come and lie with me
I call thorns comforting,
For I dread the pain that comes with healing.
Loneliness rooted in futility.
Bowing the branches to vanity's plea.
Stubbornness hungry for misery's feast.
Love is in vain when it's spent on the least bit of
Comfort for thankless heart overdrive
Overstate broadcasted woes.
Sinful thoughts indulgence.
Captive again.
Rejoice not over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me. I will bear the indignation of the Lord because I have sinned against him, until he pleads my cause and executes judgment for me. He will bring me out to the light; I shall look upon his vindication.
(For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.)
(Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree” —
so that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith.)
(And they stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him,
and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on his head and put a reed in his right hand. And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!”)
(Then Pilate took Jesus and flogged him.
And the soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head and arrayed him in a purple robe. They came up to him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and struck him with their hands.)
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