The Way Things Sometimes Are

Lord, how I miss my trusting youth

When I was so sure I knew the truth;

Those were the days when I knew

Precisely what was honest and true.

Now, older and wiser, I sometimes grieve

For the loss of what I used to believe,

Back when youth was vital and strong

And my ideals would brook no wrong.

Did I go too far; did I see too much?

Has my soul lost that gentle touch

That stayed my hand when anger rose,

And kept me from delivering blows

To sweep opposition from my path

And fling it away in a gust of wrath?

Way back then I could always see

Why folks sometimes disagreed with me.

I had thought patience grew with age;

But, instead there’s this silent rage

Hidden deep within my brain

That I must always carefully restrain

So that it can’t erupt, destroying me

With everything that I can see.

At times, inside, I am cold and still,

Filled with fury that gives me chills.

And I wait, while my memory plays

Back through dusty, bygone days,

To a dark, frightening, deadly refrain,

To a place where only madness reigns.

© 8/20/06 by Thurman P. Woodfork

Read the by Chris Sharik

11/18/2006

Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork

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