Voting booth
You judge me, but you don’t know me,
You love thee, but you don’t show me.
I trust thee lest I forget,
That premature judgment always claims the last set.
The pain torments me,
This judgment presents thee.
A picture with an untold truth,
My inner core, my voting booth.
It’s there where the silence screams,
Where the heart opens, and the little boy dreams.
It’s there where I hold my truth,
Of the little boy in the voting booth.
It’s in the booth that I cast my lot,
Of who the boy is, and who he is not …
To heart’s content I beg at end,
That the boy in the booth is actually a friend.
But you’ve cast your ballot and have a decision made,
That the boy in the booth is not worth the brave.
From morning light to dark of night,
I beg of you to see that little boy right.
Judge me not, the truth be told,
There’s more to that boy than the world may hold
 |
 |
 |