There is a girl in the corner.
She is dressed in her Sunday best,
But yet her eyes are filled with a river,
Her knees pressed to her chest.
Her hair is a waterfall about her face.
Beautiful dress, modest and clean.
Yet she hides her face in disgrace,
She wishes not to be seen.
Why is such beauty marred by tears?
Because you called her a slut.
You have created her painful years,
You have laid upon her your brunt.
There is a boy in the corner,
He is dressed to his pride.
Looking like he is from beyond the city border,
He looks so fly.
Yet he curses at his boots,
He scorns his button-up shirt.
He feels the sting of the abuse,
He is hurt by words curt.
You laugh at his pride and joy,
You call him "hillbilly."
You destroy the simple country boy,
You and your incivility.
You are nothing but destruction,
All you cause is despair.
Your fluxion of poison only causes deconstruction
Have you no heart or soul?
Are you only a monster?
Stop the madness,
No longer be the bully you are.
Look at what you have done in your malice,
Look at the scars.
This is where it stops,
This is where it ends.
Here you put down the rocks,
This is where you make amends.
See the darkness, see the pain,
See the anger, see the hatred.
This is what have created.