I feel your eyes crawling over me. As though I am something more than me. But I don't have anything good enough to say. I did not make myself this way. I'll show you what he did. But I won't take the credit. It's not mine anyway. I just held the pen that day. And I don't deserve this. This time right now. It's not something for which I can take the bow. And I don't deserve this. It wasn't me. I can't take glory for something that I can't be. I don't deserve this. I know what perfection is like. And I cannot stand before its might. And I'm so far from what you think that I must be. I just drown myself in mercy. And all the art that I supposedly create. Is simply a faded reflection of something He's already made. . By Nikita*