He was born premature.
You were born healthy for sure.
He is and always will be poor.
You are rich without a worry.
He sits and hides.
You sit and laugh.
He is abused at home and thrown against the rug.
You are always welcomed with a hug.
Your eyes never meet because his head hangs while dragging his feet.
He has never felt the expression of love.
You take advantage of every hug.
He doesn’t know what it feels like to be cared for.
You are given everything, but you still want more.
He faces depression.
You have a joyful expression.
You are caught up with yourself.
Your looks.
Your style.
Your hair.
His only wish is someone would care.
He is beat with words, hands and hate.
You are treated more than great.
He has but one pair of shoes.
You’ve got more than enough to choose.
His parents are to blame for his fears.
Cigarrettes.
Drugs, knives.
And beer.
These are the things that make him scared.
You are hardly afraid and unaware.
He is made fun of.
You talk to him with no love.
His self esteem is low.
You are always ready to put on a show.
You’re surrounded by popularity, people always giving.
He wonders if his life is even worth living.
Yet every day at school you talk behind his back.
Judgement.
Hatred.
And selfishness.
This is what you give.
To that lonely boy who never would fit in.
You are told he has died.
He was beat to death by his own father.
His father didn’t know what he was doing.
His mother didn’t know what to do.
You feel pain in your chest.
You are shattered like glass.
You wish you could change the past.
Guilt.
Shame.
And Sadness.
This is how you feel.
He is now loved more than ever.
He is given care and a mansion on a hill.
You wish you had never judged him.
It is too late, you’re at his grave.
But by God’s grace he was saved.
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