Their voice cries what tears they have to shed__
He wears long sleeves to conceal his weaknesses
For the ladies with names like Morphine and Cocaine
And the tracks they leave on his arms and between his toes
She tattoos herself with the wicked symbols of darkness
So the light won’t reveal how she whores herself to her own
Even her daddy once pimped her out for a pack of smokes
The wounded old man sits and waits for Death to knock once more
This time he knows the knock will be for him and not for those
Six soldiers from Kansas who had been caught napping at their post
The war was Hell and so in Hell is where they built the veteran’s home
Old and wrinkled with the fabricated worries of pompousness
Grandma now wishes to accept her roll as matriarch and apologize
For all the years she primped and pampered her once flawless skin
Instead of paying proper attention to her family and friends
All of whom are no longer there to recognize she is nearing the end
As she prays for them to return so that they might see her as she really is...
God smiles but does not laugh at the weak among us
As pitiful as they are and so forgotten they may seem…

Know he saves his best jokes for you…O ye of little faith…

2007 © T Sheridan

Ted Sheridan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blessed-are-they-who-call-on-him/