No More A Youth

Chained, burdened, torn.

Turning to dust so forlorn.

Visceral grasp I am born,

judged on books I’ve sworn.


I’d an innocent look youth,

where words rare in truth,

growing so wildly uncouth,

were subject to verbal abuse.


Every day was on to battle.

I riding on in shining saddle.

Those opposed they rattled,

encompassed in my shadow.


Afraid not of lies fed bare.

Rather of truth that’s there.

Dressed in shock compare

they do to what I now wear.


Grown matured unpleasing

am I now as I’m breathing.

Truth now I am now feeding

while bravado ever fleeting.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s