Wounded

Wounded Child
Crying in Corner
Lost between the years

Crying out Silently
No One Comes
No One Hears

A Prison of Silence
Surrounds Me,
Into an Early Grave.

How do I start
to Breath Again?
Am I Someone's Slave?

A Wounded Child
grows, As Does
A Wounded Man.

The Wound Becomes My Sword.
Like Tempered Steel,
I am strong again, Oh my Lord.

A Wounded Man Sat
Crying Lost
Within his Years.

Silence at last was Broken
Stattered Wounds Turned
Into a River of Tears.

A Sword of Anger Broke me out,
As I Yelled Screamed and Roared.

The Prison wasn't
Mine at Last
It Was Yours.

By M. Joseph

Michael,

I saw myself in your poem: "crying out silently, no one comes, no one hears."  It reminds me of those early years when I was desperately trying to get someone's attention.  Thank you for sharing this with us.

Revenna