There were times as a child
I’d pull out paper and lay down ink
Hoping flourishes and flares
Would make something giant
Would make people think

My drawings weren’t great
Many times were just rehashed
Those flicks of the wrist
And rubbings of graphite
More often than not wound up in the trash.

But every once in a while
The planets would align
What showed through in that notebook
Would be so much better than other times

I’d say “I got lucky”
What else could one say
When some sort of minor miracle
Came out of my pencil that day?

God creates so much
Day in and day out
Many killers, destroyers, and evil
Create perfections doubt

But there are moments
There are people
That never came of a mold
Because there was nothing
That came close to them
From the moment they were a day old

You’re the best thing that’s happened to me
You’ll never look at yourself the way I see
And god himself I’m quite sure
Scratches his own head
Looking at you and the perfection he created amongst such dread

Yes, I’m positive that when he saw you’re glorious way
God looked at you upon your birth
And said “I got lucky today”

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