Woe Unto Me Poem by James McLain

Woe unto me, 'whom some kept lost and poor.
My debt for theft long paid in full and interest is?
Poorer shines the sun your cloud, too sea it's lost it's face.
Each crooked smile so bright it hides each tear, I feel.
Fasting from the light filled thoughts in droughts.
Opened, ' is your, 'my afresh in rain one face turned down.
While mine drys up, 'I am a thought that comes and goes.
Woe unto me, 'while I was locked from light away, 'I drank
no wine, I did no drugs 'my mind stayed clear, 'while yours
was where and doing what with whom, pray tell 'I ask of you?