I’ve fallen flat at the foot of the flame,
Faith flickers fast when I’m fighting the same.
Sin is a cycle, a spinning snare,
I rise with resolve, but relapse in prayer.
Ashamed in the silence, I scream in my soul,
“Am I saved if I stumble? Am I broken or whole?”
They say, “Don’t touch that,” “Don’t taste this,” “Don’t turn there,”
But my scars still speak louder than their rules ever dare.
I’ve been to the altar — again and again,
Each time I leave, I lose a piece in the pain.
Fragments at the altar, falling from my frame,
Fighting for forgiveness, still shackled by shame.
Can I be holy with hell in my head?
Is grace still for sinners who fall back instead?
God, I’m gasping — give me ground to grow,
In this war of what’s wicked and what I should let go.
They preach purity but never walk my path,
I’m haunted by habits that harness my wrath.
Music’s my medicine, but they say it’s sin,
If rhythm’s rebellion, where do I begin?
Candles and crosses, chains and commands,
But where were they when I was lost in the land?
This walk is a war — not black, never white,
It’s a crawl through the chaos just chasing Your light.
I’ve come clean countless times, still coated in dust,
Do You still claim the cracked and the crushed?
Fragments at the altar, fighting through the fear,
Faith in the fire, but the flames feel near.
Can I be chosen with this chaos inside?
Or am I just faking my faith to survive?
God, I’m grappling — don’t give up on me,
I’m still reaching through ruin for Your remedy.
I know You died to deliver the damned…
But what if I’m both the lamb and the hand?
I know it’s personal, but people pretend,
To love like You do — but judge in the end.
Fragments at the altar, still breathing, still bruised,
Falling, but faithful, still choosing You.
You see the shame and still call me Son,
I’m not done failing — but I’m not done.
Mario_Maldonado
