Look what I’ve done/This picture I’ve painted
It looks like my heart/Or what still remains
Convince of the weight/Your interpretations
Are not what I see/ I wish they could be
‘Cause I remember it much redder
And I remember it much better
Try to explain/ The way that the frame
Doesn’t quite fit the image/Or surround the edge
It stands in display/What do you see
Behold all the new grey/What’s become of the old me
—Jars of Clay, Portrait of an Apology
Congealed expressions in a
Concealed frame — A miserable frame
How can life exist without a frame?
It could have perfectly stand
If I made it scream like Munch’s
Should I return and redo it?
And find myself changed?
Or just wait for the Northern Wind
To clash the colors in my face
Am I safe?
Will You erase me
To frame no message for anyone
I’m still whole
Without a golden frame
Is this a portrait or an apology?
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