I recently found a few poems in a box from years ago when I was fancying myself a poet of sorts. I’m struck by the dark overtones to many of my words. I find myself thinking back on what might have been going on in my life when I wrote each one. What struggles were in my heart and mind that led to these words? I’ve decided to tweak some on each Monday during this challenge and see where it takes me. The words still resonate and their darkness acts like a familiar blanket. Is this how writers of the macabre feel when they write? I think that I hope I am far from macabre…
We are born innocent children,
unaware of the trials we will face.
We grow up learning what we are taught,
not knowing of the havoc we will raise.
Just wanting to be ourselves,
we must quickly learn the other ways.
Soon, we come face to face with reality.
we begin to live to impress others.
we become afraid of rejection,
we learn to accept violence.
The life that had begun so innocently,
is now lived in fear.
Life, intended to be lived for one’s self,
is now lived for others.
As we grow older,
we witness many more children
innocently born into the Fear.
Soon, we die.
Once innocent children,
now Fearful adults.
And we find
nothing has been done
to stop the Fear.