Little Girl Lost


United States
34° 47' 46.2156" N, 90° 1' 7.1616" W

They say that the grass is always greener on the other side,
But let me tell you that is a lie, because the grass is always greener where it's watered.
And with that in mind, I'll tell you about a girl who let her thoughts wander.
She took her eyes off the prize, heading straight for her demise, buying into the lies that her life didn't really matter.
So she slipped away from the pasture, falling faster and faster, in pursuit of happily ever after.

She was searching for happiness but all she found was disaster.
She was lost.
Innocence, lost.
Clarity, lost.
Hope, lost.
Lost in complacency, struggling to be free.
Lost in a paradox, in search of paradise.
Lost in compromise and trying to be enough in their eyes.

Because they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but no one ever told her that all those magazines that scold her and all those men who try to hold her are blind.
She's heard that if you seek you shall find
And she says she fine, but there is a fine line between living and being alive,
And life's not about waiting to die, like a sheep sent out for slaughter.

No, the Shepherd has called her.
He knows her by name. Oh, yes, He calls her "daughter"
She sought meaning but it meant nothing because one person's meaning doesn't always mean truth.
Just ask Rahab and Esther, Rebecca and Ruth

It's the maker, the Author and Perfector, the Healer and Protector who knows what she's worth.
When she cries out, "I am lost!"--even before the formation of this earth--
He knew who she was and He knew where'd she be.

That girl was me.
I exalted my pride and thought I'd see clearer if I worshipped a mirror.
I was utterly unfaithful, a harlot, a whore, living off the lie that I needed to be more
To be loved and to be wanted and to not be fogotten.
But not so says the Lord, for we find life in the death of His only begotten.

Because of His resurrection I am not bound by my reflection.
No, I am bound to Someone greater, bound for something better.
His grace is the rain flooding this desert,
Quenching my thirst and healing my hurt.
He is the wellspring of life that waters my soul.
And He is the only one who who can cause this barren garden to grow.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741