Forced Poet Poem by Zachary Buck Hultman

This poetry is a new job
Was I born to do this?
It seems more I was pushed in
There's Megan in her livin room
Cryin to her Dad she can see me here written
I dont believe it, that wasn't my mission
I had so much more to accomplish then words in ordered sentences
Seems times waisted vanquished
The real worlds missin
I'm trapped at my desk wishin
Prayin to God talkin like freedom is somethin in a far distant vision
Trapped in the nation founded on freedom of religion
I don't fit in if I practice mine if Christ I'm in
Then I don't work for no one whoes payin
And it's all back to the way it was, the oldin
There's that dead kid again
Coming back out of mumification
Wrapped around him the sinnin