My mind goes back to the past,
When you called me "trailer park trash".
Anything about me you never knew,
Because only twice had I met you.
Several states from us you live,
But thats a blessing that God gives.
We all have opinions of our own,
But also we will reap what we've sown.
So I won't write your name today,
Because in the end we all will pay.
I hope someday this poem you read,
So you remember what you said to me.
I shouldn't let words bother me so,
But these are things you should know.
You think you're better than anyone else,
Before you criticize clean your own shelf.
So I ask the Lord to do his best,
To help me put your words to rest.
It's up to Him our life to measure,
One mans trash is another mans treasure.
I forgive you for the words you lashed,
The day you called me
"Trailer Park Trash"
Written by: Thelma Shutters
