Innocent Child ll

Sometimes, when the far, sliver moon is high
I look down from heaven and give a soft sigh

What could have been beautiful…never was
What should have been precious…was stolen.

With little hands clasped and eyes squeezed tight
I crawl up and sit in the lap of  Jesus Christ.

My name is Innocent Child II and my Maker is God
I know this because Jesus and I have talks

I was sent down to earth but not for too long
I heard His voice call me back with concern.

My tiny body was wracked and there was such pain
He called me home again and my spirit was in vain.

It was her choice, though, and the timing was wrong
Now, nightmares are all she dreams, nightmares of me.

 
 
 

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