Confused.

How much more broken can I be?
I shudder to utter that sentence; it's an open invitation to worsened circumstances.

I'm broken and drained;
Won't you fill me up?
(Yes.)
I'm stuck in this rut;
Won't you move me?
(Yes.)
I am draining my pride, my trust in myself;
Won't you use me?
(Yes.)

I'm doubting and scared.
I'm hopeful and thrilled.
My heart is in a constant state of breaking:
The pity and pain of what I see 8-5;
The beauty I see every time I look outside.
The fears of old that never cease to torment;
The joy in the smiles of the lives I've met.

Call me Bitter Sweet;
a mind divided.
A lady in waiting,
a mystery to myself.
Ever shifting: smiles to tears; frowns to laughter.
Clinging to the One consistency,
Ecstatic in His presence through the chaos of all other circumstances.

I asked for this Broken Heart;
and there it lays; cracked open like an egg.
The necessary operation taking place.
The poison draining;
the antidote pouring in.