Don't read it, Brady.

I am sorry for the times I have hurt you, my King.
I try not to make an atonement of my off'ring.
I cannot buy my way into Your presence.
Try as I may to earn my own forgiveness.

I have failed to keep my end of the bargain.
Broken, I find myself running once again.
The privileges You have rained down on me,
Shunned by my flesh, I cast me to poverty.

Time is the enemy, always the enemy.
Lie as I might, I know that I'm tricking me.
The world makes its beconing call,
But I run headlong into the wall.

I cannot determine Your will for me.
Perfect and painful as it may be.
Some people say, "I have peace about this..."
For me, a feeling of peace would be bliss.

Torn between what I was, am, and want to be,
Struggling to find spiritual harmony.
Reading Your Word proves more confusing;
Satan finds my quand'ry amusing.

I won't give up-I'll never quit.
You came and died- I can't forget
Your mysterious gift- a riddle to me.
Yet the answer is spelled out for all to see.

How can You continue in Your grace,
When I turn to turn and slap Your face?
Hurting you I never intend;
Only to further my own selfish end.

From the things I like, I must turn away.
Lest I cause my own heart to stray.
But is it truly straying
To see this music playing?

Which door do you want for me?
These doors, there are at least three...
Yet I only see what is written on the doors;
Behind them lies a mystery forevermore.

Please, oh please, won't You chose for me?
I don't have the wisdom, You see.
I'm scared that when I open one to see,
I will find the writing was penned by me.

The label may prove to be a farce
As clarity seems to grow more sparse.
And behind each option lies another-
Will I have to keep guessing forever?