TheBanyanTree: Locked away

[Maria Gibson]

A son made of gold.
Good son, accepting son,
the son who will do whatever he is told.

Back bent backward, bent still.
Even now with regret and guilt
that who he thinks he is you can't kill.

Life moves forward but ever slow.
Hard to be into whom he's grown
hard because even this man doesn't know.

A perfect son made of gold;
tarnished to his own mind, rusted inside
the son whose heart is tired and old.

Boy, man, father-who will he be,
to whom does allegiance spill...?
So far down a dark road, this not even he can see.

Gold is forever, but perfect sons not so.
 From within he must move and leave
beyond the boyhood preaching he must go.

A way to be found, new life to be lead.
Roads to traverse, new roads to find and
from the hard pillow of boyhood must rise his head.

Maria


JEREMIAH GREGG wrote:

>LOCKED AWAY
> 
>Shouldn’t have locked me away
>  
>