Why was I not made of stone like thee?
The tortured soul of Quasimodo cried out;
He spoke those words of pain at his end,
a pain so deep that it lived in his marrow

A pain without hope with no faith to lift it,
a desperation with no options... is a living
death... the embodiment of hopelessness;
Death then, becomes the only hope for life

The reasons are caused by those living,
as normality breeds the intolerance of...
All a Quasimodo has to do is to be born,
and nothing more than birth is needed

How sad for those who make life so,
for in death is when they pay the piper,
and fate rests with a jury of their peers;
Each person is unique, you be the judge

Judgement shall then be by a jury of one,
and no pity shall be spent on you as they
take thee to task, but the ones with those
tormented souls, understand compassion

So they will turn the table around, and have
you judge yourself as you had judged them;
How much compassion will you now have,
as you stare into your own eyes, and judge

Remember, but for the grace of God... go I

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Philosophizing & Poetizing on Realizing
ADHDelivers™ © Gary Stonecipher
All Rights Reserved
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