A Poem i wrote, inspired by my best mate. Scars Of Lament A silent meadow, in the bustle of springÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæ A singing bird, uncommon - beauty given form Jealousy, turmoil, anarchy enraging Tangible evil, unspoken norm. The bird now lies dead, spotless body now broken Immortal soul floating away, 'cross the wide ocean Blood drained from its body, pristine no more? Attacked in mid-song, peck marks galore Difference outstanding, jealousy; perversion the [bleep]! Avian murderers contrite, brows once filled with spite Ached for the song and the word, Of the little white bird, henceforth unheard. Such is lament, these are its scars, Perfection made flesh, crushed in this world of ours. Yet how does one stand against the majority, Today just a bird, tomorrow maybe many? Grieve for the right, and their rights to be, Be as they are, Exist and live free. For what is society, but quirks of the bulk, Non-conformity is evil, in darkness we skulk. Grieve for the soul of the silent man Lament his ego, age old and craven Morality sways, justice long fallen, Conscience will leave too, one more life span Grieve for the woman, who loses her right, To roam, unguarded, the lone quiet streets at night. Her virtue torn, faith ripped apart, (No injury more heinous) No silence louder than the shredding of her heart Grieve for the child, innocent and pure Forced to adulthood, at the hands of one, dear Think of his mind, once unspoilt and untouched Now destined to fear, hatred he'll clutch Close to his heart, his only respite From the storm of exclusion, denial and torment For the young made old, lament ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâælament. The scars you see, will they ever heal? Or sear under the yoke of yet one more weal. To live in the past, and dream of return, Destroys the present, thoughts of hope spurned. Lament the scars, that harsh reminder Of dreams undreamt which weren't given a chance. Of heroes unsung in that immortal dance of life; of tears shed in joy and pain; and of voices that will never laugh again. Of memories of those long gone by, Fated, by luck; not, by these visions, to cry Of blind who saw and deaf who heard, (Lament) the unsung song of a little white bird. I hope you guys like it :), don't flame, only a beginner :(
