A Trophy

Each step is 

Halted, my hope

Has been dashed.

The muscles 

Of My mind are 

working

Hard to make some

Sense of it 

all. Work is physical

And my heart is pristine

But my body is atrophying

Right down to my feet.

Noshin nutrition

And bending, lifting, 

pulling, pushing,

The body is falling 

To the ground before

My very eyes.

I don’t understand.

I ask my God

To take me as I am

These growing pains

Pain my soul so

Please lift me 

Lord from my 

Miry pit to

Sit contented 

At Your feet.

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