Imagine your standing on a rug.
It's your favorite color and a texture you love
It can be plushy and soft or firm and strong.
It comforts your heart and rights your wrongs
Day after day, for 10 years or more
It's been your security- since the day you were born
Now imagine it's pulled from under your feet.
No warning, blindsided, in a haze, you can't see
It seems like slow motion as your hanging mid air
Your legs out from under you, In the haze you just stare
With arms spread wide, you turn your head to look down
Just a matter of time until you slam to the ground.
Confusion settles in, questions race through your mind
Where did the rug go and where can I find?
How did this happen? Did you do something wrong?
Your lost in confusion -- your rug is gone
Such a change, such a tragedy, such a powerful force
This is what it can feel like to a child of divorce.
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