Poem By Natalie Jamokha
A child ran across my door,
in his voice a lively roar.
He looks back at me with big brown eyes,
That show signs of innocence’s demise.
'cause in him grows an emotional illness,
In his heart a sort of stillness
As he watches the world grow cold.
People walking down the street swiftly.
A beggar sits on the pavement with his cup hanging empty.
Nobody looks his way
For them, from his life he'd gone astray.
'cause in them grows an emotional illness
In their hearts a sort of stillness
As they watch the world grow cold.
When will we look back and realize the mistake?
To know that we put too much at stake?
I try to change the world before it changes me
And although in chains it thinks I’m free.
'cause in me grows an emotional illness
In my heart a sort of stillness
As I watch the world grow cold.