The wrong child – 12/29/03

I have always wondered silently what it must be like
to be a young child with an open sea of storm-less life
To think of the future as a chance for change
Endless possible lives and freedom and wonder
Oh, the innocence of ignorance
What it must be like to sleep with hope by your side
No bad dreams of horror, adult magnitude
Every newborn baby is like a star in the dark sky
A symbol of imagination without a fathomable purpose
I was born into fear and now…
More than half of my life is gone and I’m afraid to end it
What choice is there really?
All of reality is a book with an open ending written
Hope is a line for a character to tell
To me sanity is a window with shades drawn
Love is a bridge across a poison river
With poison comes death and death is truth
Truth is what a child wants to hear before it is poisoned
I do not ask and pray for torment
I have known true love and compassion
Apparently I was not worthy of its grasp
What haven’t I learned about this world
that keeps me where I am?
Is my soul tainted so as to reverse my good intentions?

12/29/03

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