Poetic Sermons

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Life Story #4
She is so this, or she is so that
She probably spends all day on her back
So many men, so many more
What in the world does she do it for
Doesn’t she have any respect for herself
What about her family, what about her health
What would she say if someone took the time
Or made the effort to ask what goes through her mind
Could it be that the only thing she knows about love
Is what the men of her childhood had shown her it was
Every time they touched her in her secret place
Every time they complimented her beautiful face
Night after night he would come into her room
She closed her eyes, held her breath and hoped it end soon
If it wasn’t daddy, it was uncle so and so
She didn’t want to take a ride but momma made her go
Feeling it was wrong, but being just a kid
Supposing that it must be right if that’s what grown-ups did
If not for sexual attention, she got no attention at all
It’s not real love that tripped her, but she continues to fall
Never really understanding what true beauty is
Not having her own ideal of love, she will rely on his
She is not a bad person, she is not just a whore
She has never been taught to understand she can be so much more
Night after night. Man after man, she looks to be loved
So she searches in the direction of a childhood shove
If you were not raised to know what kind of love is true
Then you could never really know how the ideal would effect you
Sometimes we judge too quickly, based on what we see
Without thinking how easily our lives could have gone differently

J. Moore

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Life Story # 4