Walking, trying, bleeding.

Striving, crying, pleading.

Is there a way

Out of this mess?

Can you feel

My vocal caress?

Wondering why

We never learn.

Easy as pie

To make a turn.

Can we put

Our heads together?

Feel the burn

Of the whipping leather.

Know the fear

Of a trapped body and soul.

Find a way out

Of this evil role.

Someday soon

We will realize

Why we are

So despised.

A mystery of sorts,

But not without a clue.

We must find a way

To make things new.


Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger

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