I think we spend our days dreaming
Things bright, things whole, things bleeding
For something better than what we have now

We are wonderstruck by the sky
You better believe it's a beautiful sight

But then we think of ourselves
Stock us on shelves
That get old and dusty
But really, must we?

He calls us perfect
And we're so worth it
Do we ever know
How we're his pollema  - his poem
In our eyes, he's written pretty rhymes
In our hair, there's beauty everywhere
In our souls, there's limericks that glows
He looks at the heart not at what people stare at
Sonnets, honest -ly you should see
How we are a masterpiece
Please note
How we are
God's Poem