BORN TOO LATE

Take this child from my hands
Born into a wicked world
Nurses draped in black like ravens
Scavenging for shiny things

Baubles, ribbons, silver rings
Tribute paid to kings and fools
The future is a wheel you see
Where certain people make the rules

We’ll teach them what to think and feel
Long before the truth reveals
How lives are molded just like clay
With all the crafty things we say

For now their cries are nothing more
Than screeching prayers to lesser gods
It’s odd how fast life falls apart
Seemed much easier at the start

He promised you, remember when?
He told you, so it must be true
A house, a home, a kiss, and then
A garden where they could pretend

Seems like only yesterday
Pink walled room, or was it blue?
Bamboozled like a magic trick
Two dogs and a cat to kick

Cars, and toys, and stuff to buy
Pickett fence to sit upon
Choosing sides, we wonder why
With double-minded coins to toss

We place our bets and soon forget
How fast the children grow
As time turns quickly on a dime
The people gather for the show

So this is where the humans dwell
They work to die and live to lie
A cycle of a life they’ve lost
A story on repeat, it seems

Their dreams forgotten by design
Replaced with hate and chasing fame
The child is falling into line
Doesn’t question anything

In fields of gold, so useless now
Orphans of the Sun and Moon
Shoeless, homeless, hungry, dead
Scattered on the forest floor

Adoring fans like wind we grieve
Whispers through the Autumn trees
Or was it spring? It’s hard to tell
The days blur fast as spells we cast

Thank God we hold illusions near
To help us make some sense
A fantasy of grand pretense
We close our eyes to see

This life of strife and misery
In pretty chains, we chase a prize
But only get so far like
Jumping fleas inside a jar

No need to worry, they’ll be fine
In prisons of the mind
While we were busy working
Saving pennies for our eyes

Trading life for money
Tender mercies for a lie
Hating what we loved so much
Loving what we once despised

Until we find we’re out of time
Our debts must now be paid
Begging for forgiveness from
The fine mess that we’ve made

TM DiSarro

THE BUSHMAN
getbook.at/thebushman

TM DiSarro