January 21, 2011
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I have no bed,
No food, no heat,
No roof over my head,
No shoes on my feet,
But who are you to judge me?
My skin is dark,
More like the night
Compared to your skin,
So light and thin,
Do you think it’s right to judge me?
My world has no God,
Yet I am not desolate, or alone,
I merely get by on my own strength and bone,
But you dare to judge me.
The words that slip from your tongue,
Like you are important, and the only one,
Who has ever had a thought in their mind,
So you think you can judge me.
I am quiet, shy,
Do not like talking to people as they pass by,
I would rather dream a thousand nightmares,
Hearing my own self cry,
Than have you judge me.
A God in the sky,
So mighty and high,
That a vast amount of earth,
Has put Him in their eye,
To worship and love,
To think of heaven above,
Without any doubt or sin.
And I still ask,
Who is He to judge me,
When this world has done nothing but purposeless gain,
Not for my praying have I succeeded in life,
I worked hard for my own accomplishments, I’ve had strife.
Not once did I call on help from another,
But instead discovered it within myself, no other.
Do not judge me, for my questions or my thoughts,
But take them into consideration, for I have a straight and narrow path,
So I do not stay lost.
If I am judged for things I’ve done and said,
At least I have said everything I wanted to, no regrets when I’m dead.

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