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Poem

If you’re only a teen, you may carry the weight,
Of a past you abhor and a present you hate,
You may live in your room, like a temple of doom,
But the rest of your day is a book and a broom.

Oh, why am I here, oh why am I me,  
Oh why am I here when I cram constantly,
I may seem like a fool, in a classroom at school,
To be something I’m not, when I’m not as a rule.

Oh, God, tell me why, is it wrong that I’m here,
If I’m not good for me, in a future unclear,
Who wants to grow old, if they never grew young,
Or never came over, game over, it’s done.

As I knelt down to pray, by the side of my bed,
I thought of the Lord, by the book I had read,
And I knew by the way that he counted His sheep,
That a lamb is the Lord by the company we keep.

Lord our God, shepherd us, in love and beauty wonder,
May thy glory here abide, and reach the soul asunder,
Christ the King is born to rule, in majesty and mountain,
Let us love our fellow man and drink the Living Fountain!

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