IMMATURE

I love me
or do I love thee
it is difficult to tell
but surely a feeling to compel
I wish I could be born again
to love, to live and to be left in disdain
How i arrived at this juncture
I am myself in awe
Am I made this way or am I just meekly immature

I ask my God
the one I bow to
how He led me to this failure
of my own principles, of my conjecture
At the crossroads I now stand
and I am reminded of the real me
I need persuasion, I need reassurance
the need to be held and caressed
I feel most undressed....