Hollow hand led shallow world your <br />grave you dug for me. <br />To keep in sleep. <br />When deep within your hole I live, <br />and breath. <br />Then die again once more each day, I am. <br /> <br />Must I see, the tearing yes, give in to pain, <br />that bore the best, too him, I am your grave, <br />lest I forget your life within my sun, it's blinded eye. <br /> <br />You must be his lifer and you her padded cell. <br />I see denial in us all, each living death can't sell. <br />If I see enough and how you made me feel, <br />each then and now your past you make again. <br /> <br />Now I can not touch your robe of black, <br />it's hem I always felt, such was it once my friend. <br />While beating others as a child, you knew I ran away. <br />Organizing pain of they whom were like I, now dead. <br />Even now in death, you know they have no name. <br /> <br />That white washed house in Florida knew but pain. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys<br /><br />Is It Poetry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thus-is-why-my-world-must-be/
