You're Too Slow

"You're too slow" is all I can hear, "feet go, go, go" as I eat my tears I banged my head and now they say "your brain is dead, but you appear okay" "you're so dumb" or so they think, I'll never summon a high paid shrink I'm too tardy for everyone, neurotic, worthless and slow but all those things I've done, willing to bet they don't know so I don't own awards or a Pulitzer prize, but I scribe poetry and I'm a good friend I can read a person's sorrow in their eyes, and will be there to soothe, listen, defend I might not look, feel or act, exactly the way humanity chooses but here's one really sincere fact, a bit of front page headline news I won't be told I am too far gone, when I'm stone cold is when they've won so until that dark rainy day when my brain matter cracks apart, I'll be quite thankful, anyway I've got a kind soul and a heart when I roll over and die that's when society wins, 'cause I won't even try to forgive them their sins people have said it before and surely they'll say again "you're too slow, and a bore, always complaining of pain" we'll see who's laughing last upon the day they all get theirs, after they say I'm not too fast I'll answer "Hey, WHO CARES!!" I did not ask to be this way, never will I mask my fears, or stray my only final request is to be treated fair, life is but Reaper's test we all need to prepare so what if I'm slow, what is it to them? I've nowhere to go but to sleep, R.E.M. maybe it's their shameful minds who cannot keep a soldier's pace blind cluelessly lead the blind, won't show their true coward face lay the blame on me for their faulty deeds, but none of them see they're so full of greed I still try so hard to get ahead in life, before I die, scarred filled with man's strife yeah, so I hit my head one time far too many, but I shall be safely led on my sugary path of manna I can think of much worse things, other than moving way too slow at least I can write and sing, all they do is sink down below when this pathetic world falls down, I'll be taking my own sweet time and if my body crawls on the ground, may that be my only great crime I've got God's love to help me to get by, comes push or shove never left high and dry my mind isn't too quick, but I am still doing fine I carry my hiking stick, on the road to the divine (c) 9.26.01 SmSThis is very personal to me...guess it should be put under love, (self-love), for I will not let the cruel remarks and actions of others keep me down. I worked hard on this poem, btw, as I do with most of my poetry...it's not just a pity poem, written to get pity and attention....so a little respect would be appreciated.  Thanks for reading and commenting. Written April 10th, 2002 © on Apr 09 2002 04:45 PM PST, Sheryl Marcia Schwartz   18 • 11 • 1