He Found Me

I was stripped of my rind

Then discarded

I was a forsaken matter

The type you find in the refuse

With malodorous neigbours

And the songs of the flies

 

Dampened and depraved

I thought that was the best I could be

I wore my guilt and shame

Like a brocade embroided with doom

I lived each day –

Let tomorrow bring its fury

 

The King found me. Twas His light? Yes

It exposed my weakness

He dug me from the refuse

The adjoining muck He washed off – all by Himself

He gave me a new joy

The type the world cannot comprehend

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