American Church

I have no goal
I have no purpose
I’m hanging on
With all my might
But I’m slipping
And I can’t seem to stop
My fingernails ache
I cry out
And now who do I cry out to?
I fear complacency like the plague
But when there’s no other option
What does one choose?
I am scared
Yet I’m indifferent
I know love
Yet I wallow in hate
I’m lonely
Is there no one to comfort me?
We’re slipping, sliding, crawling up that narrow way
And we still hope that someone, somewhere has a plan