In A Hall Way Of Life And Death

In a dark and deserted hall way of life and death, I have seen the faces of all that surrounds my body, And judging from the transparencies I see in them, All these faces remind me of myself in my time of need. I walk through this hall alone with questions in my mind, I need to know why society has been unkind, Through the years that have past and years yet to come, I feel like a drunken soldier that has docked in a far off country. Distance I have between myself and the rest of humanity, I am not normal if normal means to hurt and destroy, Just a simple man I am with hopes and dreams to grasp, With memories that will never leave my mind or heal. Constant sorrow from morning until night, I feel my heart pound rapidly through my thin body, My bones pain with remembrance of childhood beatings, And haunting dreams that make me scream and cry for my savior. Disabled passion for love and a thrust for understanding and compassion, I need to feel love with knowledge that I will never be hurt again, This heart of mine so young with age, but old with hurtful memories, Has found no refuge to protect itself from the pouring rains of hell. Distinguished I am in my outer look so eyes may see me differently, Inside I am a child that's scared of what may come in life, This fear I have so simple in thought, but complicated in desire, Are wishes that I have wished for my whole life, but never came to me. Respect is what I need and hunger for with a small sense of understanding, But misunderstood I am in thought and never respected for what I can do, Just seen as another misfit youth grown up to be what I am today, And over looked so quickly with never a second thought of success. Release me now from the labeling aspect of society that I hate the most, I need no label for the things I love to do and my thoughts I have inside, I am myself and you are you, but different is shun by all the eyes that see, So complex the world can be, and I love to let loose the Poet in me, And to be judged in life I may, but love I feel for what I know is right. Carson Edward George Smith November 23, 2000 Written November 23rd, 2000 © on Oct 22 2001 09:43 AM PST   0 • 9