How Weak I Am

How weak I am, how utterly pathetic,

My life is a sham and probably heretic.

I have nothing to bring, no skills to offer,

Except feeding moths and blessing the robber.

Guilt overwhelms me and I’m filled with dread,

Imagining being shown who I should’ve been instead.

Though within and without is the Creator’s aesthetic, 

How weak I am, how utterly pathetic.

~Poet of Ephraim

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