Return to 50 Webs.

---

Written by: Alyson Terry
 
Like a square piece, in a rigid circle
so he must have seemed
As he wandered down the lonely streets
Ashamed, afraid, demeaned
 
A drifter, a wayward soul, a waif
that wasn't needed
Dwelled under bridges, under docks
mistrust do deeply seeded
 
So young and yet so full of cares
to greet the new day knowing
destruction or the bitter end
with any weakness showing
 
Naught one to be there, guide his soul
forever lost and waiting
With no one there to mold or show
the voices harsh and baiting
 
Without a bed, a home, a friend
no one to really see him
The inner heart, the good, the light
would surely grow so dim
 
To blame him was to merely show
That no one knew how pain could grow
along with loss, inside him
 
The first glance or the first kind word
the source was hardly seen
The darkness always lurking close
and what to join would mean
 
Although his eyes and soul to match
decieved more than the mind
'Twas still a boy who craved these things
a family to find
 
Beyond the cruelty, past the blight
the sickness which transformed
If once too close, the line is crossed
his innocence is mourned
 
But where it is he can belong
Is in a place where right and wrong
are not a muted gray
 
Still he wanders daily through
a prison of his making
The choices which exist for some
are not his for the taking
 
The wanderer, the scavenger
without a place to stay
The pirate or the protege
these are the roles to play
 
Until the day he's lifted up
beyond the fear he's known
To touch the last horizon
find there's more than what was shown
 
Within the ship, within the plane
And what he is remains the same
Until his own regret and shame
become his own undoing........or salvation