Inner Critic

I looked and beheld there on the pillared rock
A man familiar yet not the same
For it was I that I could see upon the plain
A shadow of one contentiously mocked

Inner critic wounds more than a thousand foes
What slur can be levied that I won’t tell
The threat of heaven or relief of hell
If these selfish altars indeed break bones

To pity the indulgent wretch upon the floor
The water is stirred when God descends
These invisible cuts a promise to mend
Unable to crawl to reject an offer of more

"Heal thyself!" comes the lucid unyielding taunt 
Make right that which was forever erred 
No one to help when the water is stirred
Another day to wallow upon the Grecian font 

You inquired and I did with excuse idly talk
A question do I want to be created well?
Rhetorical in nature or honest who could tell?
For pity sake my son pick up yourself and walk