For the friend whose smile is forced
As she tells us that sometimes
She feels like cutting.
For the friend whose home life
Leaves much to dream, to wish for.
For the friend who tells us
She smoked pot three times
And we don’t know what to say.
For the friend who feels
That she’s not good enough
Just being herself.
For the friend who doesn’t
Know and love the living God
And Jesus who died for her.
For the friend who doesn’t
Have the knowledge that
She is loved.
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