There’s a portrait of me, I’ve painted in my head
Perfection embroidered with idealistic thread

Bound by the prison of precision, I miserably fail
This wall of virtue, I can no longer scale

I’m tired, exhausted and drained from the fight
To constantly be seen, to be heard, to be right

When the applause ceases and the ovation ends
When there’s pin-drop silence, even from friends

When every treasure I hold is no longer shining
When every silver I’ve earned has a cloudy lining

I wake up knowing that everything is dross
What matters most is that I cling to the cross

Without Him, I’m just a shell of a being
Trying hard to be noticed but hardly ever seen

I give up ambition to reach this imaginary peak
In His presence, I choose to be broken and weak

Instead of approval, fame, attention and gain
Give me Jesus, everything else is just vain

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