Perfectly Strong

How many slips and stops and trips until I remember that I can't walk?
How many stutters and stammers and sighs until I realize I can't talk?

This view of the floor is all too familiar

Marching triumphantly, ostentatiously, and blindsided by that same old thing.
And, I figured I might as well play in the mud while I'm down here.

I am free. I am new.
So what in the world am I trying to do?
What am I trying to prove?
Why do I have to lose?

But I'm on the ground, the perfect place to get on my knees and accept your grace.

I refuse to try anymore.
You need to live my life. I quit.

Your strength is made perfect in my weakness,
So, please, be perfectly strong.