The Storm

I am scared, tired, and worn,

I feel distraught, weak, and torn,

My heart is filled with quiet grief,

My hand trembles like a leaf,

My thoughts are filled with pain and sorrow,

Today seems worse, but not as bad as tomorrow

I feel incapable of many things,

Also I endure the general plight of teens,

Is there an end for my aching heart?

Is there a way to keep loneliness from tearing me apart?

I am full of discontentment and greed,

Yet I yearn to be free from this burden that I don’t need

My flesh in sinful, my mind is wicked,

I thirst for righteousness, while I am inflicted,

With the regular assailments known to man,

That seem to make each day more than I can stand,

I panic, I cry, I lay awake through the night,

Searching for comfort, for a rock amidst this plight

I cry out in anguish to the only One who can help me,

“O, my Savior, my Father, as you can see,

My heart is torn and my thoughts are far from the right,

Please guide this restless soul through the night,

And in the morning, when I worry once more,

Take my hand, and guide me through this storm.”