Finding our crosses

I am a blanket,
wrapped up in myself,
I keep to my dreams,
and pray for good health.

Folding the sheets like my hands,
for all my dirty laundry.
I couldn't stand,
so I dropped to my knees.
"Could you give me a hand?"

Making my bed,
to the tune of our song.
Are you singing along?

The walls are peeling,
the tackiest paint.
We've got no crosses to hang.
So tacky,
the shame.

I've got a word of the day,
Its on the walls,
and it sounds like His name.

So I peel it off again,
down to a layer I haven't been.
My God what a mess you've been,
but it doesn't compare to my sins.