Cardboard City.
In back streets dark, cold and wetForgotten figures in corners slept
Ragged figures of human debris
Regrets and rats for company
Cardboard city land of the lost
Afraid of the living, in fear of the frost
Surviving on wits a day at a time
Circumstance their only crime
If fate decreed that they should die
In passing without a single cry
Alone for company only fear
Who alone would shed a tear
There by fate, and not by choise
Souls in torment, with common voice
Drunks and addicts, so absurd
Vanish daily their plea's unheard
So spare a thought, as you sit to dine
Gulp your beer, or sip your wine
Things taken for granted, as we often do
But for the grace of God, it could be you.
Poetry by penfold18
Read 703 times
Written on 2005-10-26 at 11:15
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by penfold18 Latest textsForest of Bere.The Witch. A Soft Spot For The Roses. The Enemy God Willing |
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