The carefree smile has left,
Gone beyond the precipice yonder,
Left the little child bereft
Of satiety and wonder;
His laugh is cynical,
Picked it up from his teacher,
His passions are cold, clinical,
Came from his preacher,
He faintly recollects what it was to dream,
Like a movie seen in younger days,
He wakes each night with a piercing scream,
Beyond his window goes not his gaze;
Exacts hover on his mind now,
Been long since he paused to see a tree,
Or touched a flower,
His poems now spell Pee Vee equals See;
His lungs burn as cinders glowing
Of coals feeding the pig-iron melt,
Smoke from his nostrils flowing,
Been forever since he understood what he felt.
The child in me is dead!
Mourn him!
I do not cry, I don't know why,
Punished for what sin,
But I'll tell you what he said
As he lay, whispering,
'LOST: ONE CHILD, AGE UNKNOWN,
Goes by my name, but not my kin,'
The child in me is dead,
The humanity that came from within,
I grieve not for soon I'll follow,
Mother nature following humanity into the garbage bin.
