Who are the meek
Who only see the bleak
Whom we are told
as they shrink old
shall be heirs to the Earth
but do not know its worth
Whose silence is golden
with footprints heavy and beholden
waver their doubts
while their inner voice shouts
snickers and sneers
when gathered amongst peers
self-doubt casts out
the need to belong
Whom are all wrong
Who are posed in preposition
hanging in there by a thread
breathing in the toxic air of dread
hearing the loudest voice
falling for the fallacies
Who makes the choice
to glance in the mirror
projecting prisms of fear
Who do not see the good
Who have misunderstood
the value of life and self-worth
were gifts given to us at birth
which grows interest
in those whom feel most blest
doubt is a dump
a fetid hump
an intrusive and destructive
conniving ally-bearer
of the blinding white lie
twisted tongues tell tales
but the proud prevails
Whose sacred truths
are not spent on the youths
Who hide among the flock
afraid to step aside and walk
to the beat of ones own drum
waiting for confidence to come
Who is just a heartbeat away
unafraid to speak up and say
I wouldn't want me any other way.
Photo (Public Domain) By Vinc3PaulS (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
