Life is sweet, but now it is sour. I wallow in pitty
from hour to hour. I made a wrong turn down
a dead end street. Obstacles I face that I didn't
want to meet.

I made a left when I should have turned right.
In a deep dark tunnel with no signs of light.

Each step that I take, I shiver and shake;
I quiver with fear and cries that I make.

Life is insane, although it's a shame, I feel
so immuned to this tormented pain.

Crying like hell, but yet cries unheard. I feel
like a worm underneath the nest of a bird.

It doesn't matter if it's a crow or a sparrow.
My path of life is slim and narrow.
The threshold of death is to the right, and
to the left. What's straight ahead may be
my last breath.

I need to bear seed to carry on my plead;
my plead for equality from flower to weed.

The rose is born with beauty and thorn,
but the weeds only creed is to feed.

Copyright 1-23-08
Library of Congress registration
All Rights Reserved