Tis a shame who shall we blame
for our upbringing and misgivings
Our tender hearts so brutally shaken
and taken so early from us by kin who
cast their sin upon our youth or departed
from us early in death.
Yet with the hurt upon our souls we bled our
ink to let it dry and turn to powder leaving
footprints on the white awhile with the hope
that just maybe someone will rest there lonely
hearts with ours to feel some comfort from our
But partake of our scribes of who
we were and what we wanted to become for
in our dreams we dreamed of better days
and happiness for spent we were from all
our misery left us raw and sad.
Thus we came and went to find ourselves
again and became the Poets with a voice
so all could hear we shouted loud and clear
please read our scribes so that all future
generations will survive their own abuse and
not have to run and hide their sadness on the
other side of their lonely hiding places.
© Copyright 2013 by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved