Broken Vase

You give me an inch, I take a yard. I’m locked up by the sins of the past. I was broken early, like a cracked vase, before the roses could be placed. Before I got to taste your presence, I was chained up like a peasant, restricted by the addictive drug. Yet you still chose to exercise your love. I won’t pretend to be righteous, even if that means being attacked by the vultures. Only Jesus was victorious in that regard.

Matt Brown | Evolving Poet