My Pain

The screams and shouts come loud into the room.
They come in and they go out and come in again.
The screams and shouts and smiles and laughter
Ring around the room.
They are a pain,
As child birth is a pain I guess,
That brings great joy.

Why do I come here? The alarm blats and blats and blats.
Is it the methodical making and meting out of mind matter?
Why do I come here? The house is cold and dark and empty.
Is it the damned demanding and remanding by mandate?
Why do I come here? The streets are pocked and crowded and long.
Is it the closeted bickering and snickering of colleagues?
Why do I come here? The halls are empty and the room is a mess.
Is it the knowledge that no matter what I do,
I will stand condemned by a nation of sheep,
Who neither know nor care,
But are trained to pour their bile
On those who know and care.

I come here because
The screams and shouts come loud into the room.
They come in and they go out and come in again.
The screams and shouts and smiles and laughter
Ring around the room.
They are my pain,
As child birth is a pain I guess,
That brings great joy.

March 2010

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About Jay C Ritterson
If I say nothing, it might be that I have nothing to say.

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