Thoughts of a Bullied Child
The buzzards picked my bones apart,
the only thing left was my bleeding heart.
They buried me deep then dug me up ,
I guess I wasn't dead enough.
They buried me again and left me to be,
in pain I was left whilst my heart still bleeds.
I only wanted to be just me,
but the buzzards wouldn't let it be.
They gathered around to pick my bones,
I pleaded with God to take me home.
He scooped me up and made me whole,
and gave me wings as white as snow.
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