Can You Help Me?

This is another poem written when I felt very little and saw very little hope. But let it be known, Christ can help me and has helped me and does help me and will continue to help me. It doesn't matter if I've not been able to see people in my life as a help at a point. When people hurt, they often focus on two things: the pain and themselves. We need to focus on Him, even when it aches. We just continue to show our need for God, with our selfishness and all. 

    Can you help me? I'm pleading, I'm pleading. Or am I really needing 

                                                                                time? 

    I answer your questions while you dissect my face. Is it helping? Is it 

                                                                              helping? 

    I don't want to cry, I don't want to shake. But your questions only end in this, don't you see? 

    Is it over, is it over? Or will it ever be over? 

    Are you doing this for me, or are you doing this for yourself? 

    You tell me you're trained, but how is 

                        they're 

one trained to do something like this? 

    These questions, these questions... My pencil breaks through, rips through, crashes through this paper. 

                                                                                                                                 across 

    Is it helping, is it helping? I'm pleading, I'm 

    leaving.