The Passive Poem by Orin Dean Griffin

They wait inside a crystal shell
To see the silver lining,
They push into the bitter hell
That’s deep and redefining.

The walls, they stand like building blocks
Without a back yard door,
Then they run catching rocks
That beat them to the floor.

And lonely is another word
That makes the passive think,
That life is just a bitter chord
That makes the humble shrink.

Save, when bold is not a crown of gold
And daunt does not draw fears,
And man has a quiet world to hold
Where strength is a pool of tears.