The Lost; The Free -- a poem

The hurt, the pain, the lost, the confused, the depressed.

we ain't very well dressed;

our clothes are ripped, tattered, and scattered.

we fall to our knees saying,

"Why me?"

but we don't understand that this land or feet stand on

might not be here, come dawn.

we're trying to stay on top.

in the middle and not forgot.

but we don't see that our lives

are like a shaken bee hive;

it's spiraling, gone, out of control

because who here was told

that the love of God does not get old?

it stays with us forever and sets us free

from the ropes that bind us;

we think there is no way to leave.

Oh God, help us please.

We yearn to be free.



*OK this is one of my very first poems. I've never really liked poems... HOWEVER we are now learning 'bout them in school and I've come to find that the only reason I didn't like them is because I didn't know how o write them :-). Hope I'm doing well ;)