I am walking toward a strong black monument.
I visit it often to remember the lost.
At each visit I see another name I know.

The words I speak are jumbled and confused.
I wander along on bleak city streets.
All I do is move from yesterday to tomorrow.

I do remember where I came from.
The wall clearly shows its image.
I am not the first.
I am not the last.
I am just one who survived without merit.

W. Wayne B.

© 2012 W. Wayne B.