When I was a little child, my faith in God
could withstand anything; I wasn’t fazed
by fear, but the older I became, the weaker
it grew while I chased after the world.

Eventually, I morphed into my own god;
I entrusted everything into my own hands;
made poor choices and permanent decisions
that I thought were best for me. And when
they didn’t work out, I’d turn to God
and ask “why?” Sometimes cursing at Him,
not knowing He was trying to save me
from my broken self.

And as the years flew by
and I become weaker, I learned
to crawl again; I’ve learned to depend on Him
as I did when I was a little child.