A thorn in my side that I can not escape.
A dagger to my heart; its piercing starts to shape.
The captivating beauty I wish that I did have,
The jealousy that overwhelms my human heart with wrath.
Father, clip the thorns so that Your rose may grow.
How can I glorify You when my flesh continues to show?
But that is why You died; You sacrificed for me.
Father let me not forget: my old self You do not see