Dirt
The angels were sweeping out heaven
When I was born,
And the dirt fell on my face;
And they forgot to dust me off when they were
done,
Now I live daily in disgrace.
I have strived so hard not to bring hurt or
pain,
To others and also to me;
But the Dirt seems to follow me wherever I go,
I wish i could be free.
The sunny skies retreat whenever I step out of
my door,
And the thunder clouds roll in;
There is no shelter from the storms of this
curse,
There is no way to win.
So ive locked my door and battered heart
away,
Ive pulled the shades down tight;
I will keep the dirt trapped inside with
me alone,
So others wont be infected by my plight.
Copyright © Carl Fraser | Year Posted 2014
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