Living Up To The Dead Poet's Expectations Poem by James McLain

By my painful bowing,
mourning and night has come to
all but them.
She then led U.S.
on and by passing, he led U.S.through.
Being first, no greater mind's
having but by other's set a path marked
by death, all to often premature.
And still greatness suffers, known now
as mental illness,
bi- polar mixed with brutal depression.
Stealing from U.S.
as like from them from what could be
a peaceful end.
Loving life through the eye's of another
not yet born,
to know before birth about their death
and yet, still choosing to be born.
Thrust upon U.S.
are certain soul, souls that can see what
other's cannot and
are again killed by the law of this land
their crime being but being born.
Prophets then unlike now we're judged how?
Now being judged by such judge's are they,
whom know very well, whom they kill.
While knowing them all, before they were born
and being as such
we're children like yours and walked the land.
Sister's and brethren can they by proper use
of the word, lead U.S.
like them, down once again to an unjust death?
From the dark we all came, that day never was and
being plucked from that night
by our birth's we were thrust into the deep of day.
Being half their age we are old in death is youth.