I am a sight so sorrowful
I cannot bear to think,
what little children feel
when they stumble upon me.
When I nod to show them
what my intentions are,
they turn and run from me
and watch me from afar.
When I smile and beckon
them, to come to me,
I sadly have to see
them cringe and cry out loud.
When I beg them to stop
and listen to my song,
they look at one another
and stare at me in awe.
Oh why can’t they come closer
to see my beady eyes
a-blinking with my tears
wherein my sorrow lies?
Oh why can’t they come close enough
to see my shoulders frail,
bent forward by the wind
and rain and storm and hail?
Oh why cannot they see
my body hanging limp,
a lifeless shapeless pity
with only withered hope?
A sad and lonely scarecrow
standing in a lonesome field,
destined to spend my days
in endless sorrowful ways.
Sometimes a role necessary to fulfill is not recognised by anyone as being worthy.
