Life Trapped As Strapped To A Life, To A Wheel Chair Of Pain. Poem by Michael Gale

The weelchair's wheels as moved needs oiled...
All walk-ed noise but be real spoiled.
Progression of time...
For he whom hurt, but only crime.
Only noise, were tears not joyed...
Sadnessed became all times employed.
Ne'er to walk at one last time...
Ne'er to dance, nulled tune to chime.

Tears now roll easier than wheels...
No more hope of happier years.
Bestilled movement in times of day...
Bestilled smiles come not my way.
Death t'will seem as welcomed to thee...
Peace with oneself, will be, will be.
Will this chair be themed to thee? ...
Will this care beseach to ye?

Will my smile e'er to learn?
Will thy happy smile, face forever denial?
Will my heart learn not to ignite the light of
forever saddening feelings that forever
and ever, brightly flare up tonight and lastly burn.
Will this sadness begin my lifelong torturous flame? ...
To forever fan the flame of blame.
I am forever to spend long days of trial...
No more hope, only denial and retrial.