On the Street I Lie
The wind is sharp, ‘tis raining hard, Ignored and shunned by young and old - They pass me by without a glance, As on the street I lie so cold. In pain, so badly bruised am I, Some youths approached - at me they swore; Now battered, beaten and reviled, I’m on the street, aware no more. So cold I am, I cannot think…. In pain I struggle, my head I hold; Box so wet – protects no more, And on the street, I lie so cold. My mind so blurred as off I drift, A child I was and so abused; Times that trashed my life indeed, Now on the street, I’m so confused. My mind now clears a little more, I see my mother, she smiles at me; She fades – her face no longer there, And on the streets I’ll ever be. I hear my father swear and shout, I see my mother punched so hard; And on the floor she lay - so still, So on the street, I ran - so scarred! Back I creep and watch the house The police are there – I try to hide; My Dad I see hustled away, While on the street so terrified. No care, no love was shown to me, A home for boys - the thought now pains; So bullied I was – abused as well, And on the street, my life now drains. So cold I am, I shut my eyes, I wane, ignored by passers-by; No longer cold and wet I feel, As ..on ….the …..street, …. I …… I ………
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BPF
Love creativity - especially writing - poems especially. Love my wife, cats, our church, reading, warm weather (so rare here!) and snow - quite common these days - even in spring....
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