Poetry

i recall his swing as my blood flew,
screams in the night while hatred grew.

with bottle in hand he still must drink,
cast aside as my heart does sink.

in silence alone i did so weep,
with all our tears in sorrows deep.

and upon his leave i still do cry,
from this man whom i wish would die.

for along these years flow swiftly by,
his thought in mind will gently pry.

so thinking of him others do see,
him in this picture of only me.

a downward fall I seem to concede,
with all this Rage my soul does bleed!

for within this life’s unlawful fate,
i might just be that man i hate.

05/18/94 — i wrote this as a kid when I was locked up. –Justin Witte