Sometimes, Lord, I am expected to sing praises.
But all I can manage are the blues.
I am expected to forgive.
But all I want is revenge.
I am expected to bloom where I’m planted.
But all I want is to be planted somewhere else.
I so frequently fall short of the aspirations you have for me.
But even then, I know your presence remains and your love abides.
Though I am rarely what you expect, you are always more than I expect.
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