A battle rages inside me,
One is pure and white,
The other is cruel and dark,
Battling who wins.

She walks into the room,
I can tell she is near;
No matter what I do,
I can still feel her stare.

If He is the Rose of Sharon,
And we are a part of the Vine,
Then I would be a thorn,
Pierced in His brow and side.