The Wretched
I look through myself
Deep within
Trying to find the answer
Why I pity them
These mindless souls
A path clearly layed out for them
They are brainwashed zombies
Unknowing
Unwilling
Unable to witness the truth
But we the few remain
Us, the ones with our own brain
We stand
We fight
We resist the death grip
We are the ones in the crowd
The ones with our head up proud
As people walk by
They wonder why
We are like this
We are like that
They call us outcasts
But in my mind
I think of us all as something truly divine
Because I escaped
I know what it feels like not to hide
Yet to this day
I don’t know why
People chose to hide and lie
I’ll never know how they do it
Is it because of the firm grip?
The one that won’t let you slip?
Is it really that hard to escape the horrible grip
This grip, the death grip
The one of the wretched...
Copyright © Reese Giroux | Year Posted 2009
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