I Know
I know a place where anger is shown.
Where sadness cries,
And men have grown.
I know a person who visited this place,
With anger in his eyes,
And tears for a face.
I know that this person was also very kind,
Yet so very weak,
In its poor mind.
I know that this person is very confused,
So very blind,
Yet not bruised.
I know that it had an arm with which it used to write,
With which it used to type,
With which it used to fight.
I know that it had a choice of peace or to bleed,
The colors of its pain,
The colors of its deed.
I know of this place where nothing is unknown,
Where sadness cries,
Where men have grown.
I know that this person and this very place,
Had congregated once,
Had met face to face.
I know that it clenched its fist and had so much rage,
As it stared at this place,
About to write it's new page.
I know that it paused and thought about its life,
Thought its kids,
Thought about its wife.
I know that it paused and thought about its past,
Thought about its kids and wife,
And the bomb blast.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Happiness over the summer,
At fourteen.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Its sister's death,
From a machine.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Running with friends,
At fifteen.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Getting mugged at night,
On sad Halloween.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Driving with friends,
At seventeen.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Its friends moved on,
At eighteen.
. . .
I know of a person and of a place,
A wall and a man,
Who met face to face.
I know that this man had so much pain,
Yet one thing I don't know,
Is just his name.
And here I lay in my peaceful room,
One hand cracked and gone,
Death coming soon.
I just wish I knew his very name,
As he broke the wall,
As he smeared his pain.
I know a place where anger is shown.
Where sadness cries,
And men have grown.
I know a person who visited this place,
With anger in his eyes,
And tears for a face.
I know that this person was also very kind,
Yet so very weak,
In its poor mind.
I know that this person is very confused,
So very blind,
Yet not bruised.
I know that it had an arm with which it used to write,
With which it used to type,
With which it used to fight.
I know that it had a choice of peace or to bleed,
The colors of its pain,
The colors of its deed.
I know of this place where nothing is unknown,
Where sadness cries,
Where men have grown.
I know that this person and this very place,
Had congregated once,
Had met face to face.
I know that it clenched its fist and had so much rage,
As it stared at this place,
About to write it's new page.
I know that it paused and thought about its life,
Thought its kids,
Thought about its wife.
I know that it paused and thought about its past,
Thought about its kids and wife,
And the bomb blast.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Happiness over the summer,
At fourteen.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Its sister's death,
From a machine.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Running with friends,
At fifteen.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Getting mugged at night,
On sad Halloween.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Driving with friends,
At seventeen.
I know that it paused and relived a scene,
Its friends moved on,
At eighteen.
. . .
I know of a person and of a place,
A wall and a man,
Who met face to face.
I know that this man had so much pain,
Yet one thing I don't know,
Is just his name.
And here I lay in my peaceful room,
One hand cracked and gone,
Death coming soon.
I just wish I knew his very name,
As he broke the wall,
As he smeared his pain.