Working with kids can be depressing..When there is nothing that you can do for the individual..When the world seems to pass by forgetting..That a child exists..
Strained the eye of blue, depth robbed,
Through forgetful lust of longing, doing,
Never knowing, the next or the past.
Chilled are the stars you longed for,
Gone with the whispers on the wind,
Never-ending waiting, empty, and harassed.
Come they say, All is open, Mindless;
Not appreciating who you are,
Captive, Culprit and Victim of the mass.
Bleak is your future, Prayer help not;
Cell of empty remorse, asking why; I,
Where do I Begin. It started with an end.
Add a Comment