Colin F. Jones

WHO… ME?

Did I ask to be born into poverty and fear,
Taught to pray to a God who never comes near?
Did I ask that my teacher mess with my head,
That given choice I would think something else instead?
Who told me to believe in this God I don’t know,
To conform, to obey, where ever I go?
Why is it I believe all you others are wrong,
With whom I can’t live for I can’t ever belong?
I can only be me the way I was carefully cloned
Manipulated and moulded, manufactured and honed.
Be I a barbarian or nun a trained soldier or you,
The choice was not mine that I do what I do.
Stop a moment and think, you self serving men:
Then ask “why do I speak English, when counting to ten?”