I.
Crush, batter, bruise, I am little more than refuse.
What was once a warm embrace, became batons upon my face.
Words that were so lovingly spoken, have left me utterly broken.
My beauty was that of a rose, now I am seen as tattered old clothes.

Why oh why would one I held so dear;
Use their fists and words to hold me in fear?
They once stood beside me honor bound to raise me up,
And not tear me down.
Yet, here I lay crumpled on the floor, with a promise
“It won’t be as it was before!”

II.
Every night I lay awake, and ask the Lord my soul to take.
Those words swirl in my head, filling me with such dread.
So quitely I lie, with a tear in my eye asking God;

Why oh why would one I held so dear;
Use their fists and words to hold me in fear?
They once stood beside me honor bound to raise me up,
And not tear me down.
Yet, here I lay crumpled on the floor, with a promise
“It won’t be as it was before!”

III.
Lo, a voice did express His own complete sadness.
The pain, He shared mirrored my own when compared.
It gave such a comfort to know that the Son of God loves me so.

IV.
He too was crushed, battered and bruised. Treated more like refuse.
He was greeted, with a warm embrace, then was beaten upon the face.
Words that were so lovingly spoken, were in hate leaving Him broken.
He is known as “Sharon’s Rose” drawing lots for His tattered old clothes.

Why oh why would those he held so dear;
Use their fists and words to hold Him in fear?
They once stood beside Him honor bound to see Him raised up,
And not tear him down.
Yet, here He upon the cross did implore
“It won’t be as it was before!

Inspired by: God, BJ and to any and all who have suffered abuse!