Innate Innocence

This poem enumerates the innocence of a child who fails to understand the complexities of the so-called “elder” and
“more sensible” world.

A callow child
To flesh and soul
I know not
Of revile and revolt

Neither of expressive silence I know
Nor of obscured existence and being
I know not of treachery
Hidden beneath the staunchness I am seeing

I know not
Of canto and prose
And of deceit and lie
Of tears and woes

Niether of the mask and masquerade
Nor of the cutlass and trident I know
I know not of insolence
And the cunning foe

My puerility is to blame
As I scumb to the incompetence
To understand the “elder” world
Which as they say has much more sense

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Constructive and genuine appreciation and/or criticism most welcome

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