Blasphemy

I'm told not to fear 

but I always end up here 

lying on the ground 

surrounded by my own hearts beating sound

because I fear what I've become 

To far gone to be loved 

I hear my mind think these words 

and I think blasphemy 

the slithering devil must be after me because his grace is enough 

no matter my lack there of 

there is always his love 

how can this be possible 

Such unfailing love seems implausible 

Because my hands are covered in what I've done 

but then I remember his son's 

hands 

with holes, dripping blood