A little child, young and innocent.
He greets every morning with a smile,
for there is nothing to fear.
At night he says no prayers,
for there is nothing to fear.
"To church you must go," cries a friend.
There he learns of hell and sin,
of imperfection and innocence lost.
He greets every morning wondering,
"Can I be perfect today?"
Broken and sullied, he cries,
for there is everything to fear.
He greets every morning with a smile,
for there is nothing to fear.
At night he says no prayers,
for there is nothing to fear.
"To church you must go," cries a friend.
There he learns of hell and sin,
of imperfection and innocence lost.
He greets every morning wondering,
"Can I be perfect today?"
Broken and sullied, he cries,
for there is everything to fear.
posted by Stephonovich at
17:08
2 Comments:
That's... yeah. Very well written. I can feel what you're trying to say. Bravo **throws flowers**
but yeah. I'm... sorry? I do know how you feel. It's not a fuzzy feeling at all. So... yeah, idk what to say. **hug**
By
that girl, at 04 April, 2006 10:41
I wasn't sad at all when I wrote it. Very much a release. So don't be sad. And thanks for the flowers. I love you.
By
Stephonovich, at 04 April, 2006 12:10
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