The Boy Inside

the boy inside drawing

He whipped his soul,
his entire life,
for what was not his fault.
And now the scars,
from all the wounds,
we’re there for all to see.
I saw the boy,
I saw the whip,
I saw through all the pain.
I told the man,
he was the boy,
and he was not to blame.
The man’s tears fell,
he dropped the whip,
and hugged the little boy.
His burdens fell,
his wounds were healed,
and now he tasted joy.

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