As a young boy,
I was The Perfect Child –
My secret heart was
Sweeter than doubt
Sweeter than two-percent milk
I am an adult now,
I write misspelled words
My sycophancies are frozen into ice
I live a life of quiet desperation
Here, it is how you say “sweet” and “cute”
But what would the walls of the brick buildings say
If they could talk?
Drop Inn Shelter:
Serving food and serving our minds.
Smile. I am screaming inside.
“Why not me?” as I fill cups with water, scatterbrain-like,
I dream to take this “thing” away.
Picasso draws exquisitely – “thank you”
Everything I see has more color now
Who put their warm hands over my eyes for so long?
Miami University: Love and Honor
Drop Inn Shelter: social progress