Torn

Never walked with You through that field;
Or had the strength to bend, to yield.
Can never know the way it feels,
To bear a wound designed to heal.

Less like the wine, more like the tree,
Which stands and splinters even me;
My bark now bears the memory,
Of the grotesquely pictured agony.

They say darkness ate the land,
Yet I see no change from where I stand.
My metal driven through Your hand;
My evil ways; my hearts demand.

Because I've murdered once before;
Betrayed my love, became a whore.
But that doesn't matter anymore,
I see now that veil's been torn.