A Song Letter

Look in the mirror my friend, 

What do you see? 

A pair of guilty eyes,

Not so different from me. 

Fingers point and people accuse,

That's why I sing the blues. 

Tell me again why you hate me so, 

I'll tell you where you can go. 

Man is a man from his heart, 

Although that's not always where it starts. 

Bred pain and hateful hearts. 

Bring forth a man with scarred marks. 

So tell yourself you're no better. 

As I send you a song letter. 

We washed the stains away,

And made art out of  molded clay. 

So quick to throw away, 

Something you may love someday.