can a prayer save me from insanity?

pray, dare her to speak, and only songs shall utter her presence,
tiny as she stands, she whispers a life of strength,
sorrowful pretense, though it may seem, her flesh enfolds such passion deep,
burning and fierce...sleeping and still.
with such eyes she undresses the lies of false prophets;
in her mind, stripping off every bit of their foolish face.
with her lips she smiles away the agony of the forsaken;
bringing an eternal rain of invisible joy to such lonely existence.
with her hands she weaves the spirit of undying zeal,
secretly leaving an immortal bond among hopeful acquaintances.
thus, she is such, as she dreams every moonlight,
thus, such as she, prays eternally to be.

she sits quiet and content, but of the stern effort she veils;
a mere constant struggle, she had it baptized, for her destiny unrevealed,
she toils on a continuous trance, between momentary life and death situations,
of this simple decision to reason without fail, what to sin and what not to.
she cries tears that bring no comfort, she sing songs that only usher more pain;
this must be the life of devotion, she only declares to herself,
for truly no one shall understand, her questions, her battles, her sacrifices;
she has prayed to angels and saints, and even now sleeps, a plead unanswered.

must this be how she honestly desires to exist,
struggling evermore in melancholy?
even heavenly God, the Omniscient,
refuses to give her a remedy precise.
09.24.02