Lost Souls Poem by Keith R. Mansfield

We feel the stares
Of piercing eyes.
The burning glares
In righteous guise.
Sensibilities scream
From their pious tower,
" No right to dream! "
And the broken cower.
Huddled on mass
Alone in dark places.
Noses to the glass
Staring back at the faces.
Tears crest our cheeks
With our longing to be,
No longer the freaks
That all of you see.
From our place in hell
To societies surprise
We'll break this spell
and touch the skies.