Victims Of Circumstance Poem by David Harris

They stand bewildered by all that goes around them,
living within their own little worlds,
which we cannot even understand.
These victims of circumstance stand.

We all look on and bow our heads,
when they bury victims of war,
but turn away whenever we see
these poor lost souls.

Some are there because of defects at birth,
others the aftermath of disease,
while others involved in accidents,
and left to suffer humiliation.

The brain is a wonderful thing,
when it functions properly,
functioning wrong its host
is charged with insanity.

There are those who are violent,
and in institutions are the only life they will ever see.
Others have strange ways, and act in a childlike manner be.
While others need constant attention, because of hardly any brain activity.

All are victims of circumstance,
beyond anyone’s control.
They would live a normal life,
if they had a choice to be.

They are victims shunned by society,
who say they are a blight, on our lives,
and locked away out of sight,
every one of them should be.

No one wants to associate with them;
their only friends are of their own kind.
They look out with pleading eyes,
for someone who may be kind.

The names they are called are hurtful,
yet they do not understand.
These poor lost souls
only ask for a helping hand.

Those who have worked with the mentally ill,
will tell you, not all of them are stupid.
They can feel just like us, love, hurt and pain.
Some can do what we call menial tasks
and others look after themselves.

Sadly, some do need to be institutionalized
because they are dangers to themselves or others,
and some have to be there for the constant attention that they need.

Yet others because they look somewhat strange,
and do childish things at times.
They are all labelled under an umbrella,
and simply called insane.

But, for the grace of God,
we might have walked with them there,
these victims,
victims of circumstance.


18 - 19 May 2007