~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>^..^<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Innocence traded for an hour of haze,
he trundles through darkness as if in a maze.
No thoughts for the wicked, no hope for the lost,
he lives in oblivion, ignoring the cost.
Voices fly by like so many years,
confirming suspicions, incarnating fears.
Night after night he plays out his hand,
always to fold; his thoughts turn to sand.
Reason escapes him, emotions run high,
he longs for escape, unable to try.
While those in his circle still seem to have hope,
imprisoned in mire, the boy cannot cope.
Forever trapped in an older man’s shell,
Little Boy’s Lost in an ages old Hell.
-James V. Watson, Jr.
8/19/93
*--Published Work: Campus Point, UCSB sponsored monthly newspaper, May ’94 issue.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment