The Dreadful, Slimy Voice

It amazes me how insecurities can come back and rear their ugly heads. I find that my negative criticism toward others is usually rooted in pride or hidden fears about myself that resurface.

The dreadful, slimy voice
I’ve heard it oft before
It wriggles right into my ear
No knock upon this door

Its tone is damp and breathy
Like soup-sunk, squishy bread
And the words begin exploding
Round by round inside my head

“She’s fat”
“She’s ugly”
“She has no taste”
“What’s she doing in that dress?”
“She’s only here for the attention”
“Wow, she sure is a mess!”

And between reverberations
Of all this “she-she-she”
I hear, in cool, crisp timbre
Oh, right. “That’s me-me-me.”

I thought I’d been through this before
And dealt with all these lies
But now they’re back, full on attack
In hideous disguise

All these things I thought I buried
All these shadows from my mind
Crawl out like phantom spiders
Spinning webs I can’t unwind

Fears I used to battle
Lies I knew weren’t true
Old wounds, exposed, inside myself
I see in others, too

But now these scars, they glare at me
They scream into my face
They taunt, they say “Don’t let them go!”
“Don’t spend your hard-earned grace.”

“Let it burn and fester!”
“Let pride have its fun!”
“After all, can you just ignore
the damage to you it’s done?”

When I start to focus on myself
When I think that I’m too great
I harm the ones I love the most
And strengthen what I hate

When Jesus came He broke the chains
From doubt and fear and shame
He made secure a hope for me
He has power in His name

But like unfastening a seatbelt
While flying through a war zone
I allow these insecurities
To slay the freedoms I own

So I guess all this to say
Is how eerily it’s true
That when you point a finger out
Three are pointing back at you

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