The Sorrowed Man

The pain and hurt,
He feels inside,
If you look close enough,
You can see it in his eyes,

The torment of losing,
over and over again,
A cruelty that's known to him,
of who he is,
and who he should be,

Not one to hurt a soul,
Never to say,
or take control,

Never believed,
in anything he,
Never had the opportunity,
Left alone to pour out his soul,
the teardrops fall,
as he writes and draws,

A painting of a lonely soul,
Left on his own,
wandering,
through darkness,
No one there to console,

A horse in the field,
roaming alone,
With no one to shield,
from the pouring rain,
continuously beating,
again and again,

Sadness and pain,
of a sorrowed man,
Who,
Why,
Does he feel this way,
no one knows,
no one can.








Copyright © 2011 John Bevan