The Dash Between the Dates

Dear God, where is my face?

I need your hands to still

A frantic and frenzied ticking time bomb of a head.

Heaven, is there room,

For me to pick and choose?

Do you want more from me?

Has it really been complete?

Dear God, will you show your face,

And will I be ashamed?

I float from peace to pieces,

And it hurts to lift my head.

Twisting every finger back

until they accuse their master.

The house I built was built upon the sand.

"If you were here, you'd hold your head, and the tears would flow"

And I saw the way those words pierced.

"If you were here,

You'd see my tears would flow."

This lie will let me down

The more that I shape it.

I've held your hands in mind,

All for it to crumble with pressure.