He wrote his name with piss in snow, and pitched
A cinder block into the window of the jewelry store.
Drunk every weekend, and chased by the cops,
All the folks in his suburb described him as rotten,
But he never stole anybody's life savings,
Or sent someone's child to war.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 104 times
Written on 2019-01-01 at 18:55

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
Strong and true. He might end his life in jail while the real criminals live in luxury.