I am 9 years old with long curly brown hair.
I am three foot tall, weighing next to nothing
With giant burnt brown eyes.
I’m on the playground sitting on the cross
Of the ship made of giant Lincoln logs
With a tearstained red blotchy face
And rosy nose snotty and swollen.
Take me home.
I am dull and unable to read or write,
But good at math though slow.
I was once happy friends with everyone,
Considered a positive “happy” girl,
Despite being stupid.
I am persecuted by adults and later children
Who were once my best friends.
I am an outcast among my peers, family;
Even those who should protect me, take turns stabbing with spears.
I smile in church,
Singing “I am a flower quickly fading, Here today and gone tomorrow.”
If only… Take me home.
On the cross, I sit alone again
And all I have is you, God.
Please take me home. Continue reading Take Me Home