No person in this God forsaken world.
Every whisper, it grows bigger.
Every touch breaks the skin.
This room so cold, my breath begins to hang.
The bruises throb with memories,
It wasn't just a dream.
Sweaters and red-patched jeans
In the middle of July.
To cover up those scars of remembering,
Who she was, and who they made her be.
For the beaten and the bruised,
Somebody in the sky watches out for you.
For the broken and the abused,
Stand up, you'll see, there's others standing too.
Standing for the beaten and the bruised.
You're on your knees, numb to the ground.
The Lord God Almighty, He'll fix you,
Raise you by your cut wrists
And lead you hand in hand.
You go to walk on,
Every new footstep placed into the sand
Is a step ahead from where you've been.
For the beaten and the bruised,
Somebody in the sky watches out for you.
For the broken and the abused,
Stand up, you'll see, there's others standing too.
Standing for the beaten and the bruised.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem