Borrowed Throne

I left part of my soul by Zero-Three-Left, came home still breathing but acquainted with death. Three injuries buried beneath twenty-three years, while good blurred with evil through the smoke and the fear. I prayed province by province, put their names at the Cross, trying to find Christ in the weight of the loss. But the war followed home, lived under my skin, then the house meant for healing became war again. I never asked for perfect. I never asked for your life. I asked for partnership. I asked you to be my wife. I asked for a partner. You asked what I could provide. I asked you to stand beside me. You watched me disappear inside. When my body raised the warning, You answered every time: "Just get over it, just get over it," Like survival was a crime. It happened inch by inch, dismissal dressed as peace, my value started fading when my strength began to leave. You loved the man who carried everything upon his back, then blamed the disabled veteran for everything he lacked. Cabinets became gunshots, my body stayed on guard. I hid ten-by-ten just to breathe through the dark. Last August I saw it, eleven months I raised every alarm I had, but nothing ever changed. Another month of silence, another frozen home, sixteen years of marriage and still completely alone. The church said it softer, your family said it cold, same sentence, different mouths: "Get over it and hold." The shepherds handled wolves with care And met the wounded sheep with stones. They called my suffering holy From the safety of their homes. They used the vows I made to God Like chains around my life, As if covenant meant disappearing To preserve somebody's lie. I asked for a partner. You asked what I could provide. I asked you to stand beside me. You watched me disappear inside. But God was not the voice that crushed me. Christ was not that silent room. Love was never meant to erase me. Grace was never meant to consume. I found God beyond your judgment. I found life outside that home. You don't get to speak for Jesus While you're throwing holy stones. I found God beyond the judgment... I found God beyond the pain... I found God beyond the silence... I found God beyond the shame... (Come down...) (Come down...) (Come down...) FROM YOUR BORROWED THRONE! (Come down...) (Come down...) (Come down...) FROM YOUR BORROWED THRONE! (Come down...) (Come down...) (Come down...) FROM YOUR BORROWED THRONE! COME DOWN... FROM YOUR BORROWED THRONE!