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.

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