We ran through the strees as children. Listening to our rock and role music, the new style for an old generation. Futures bright on our minds. Except for the few who felt they were foced to fly to soon. But all is fine in this city of mine. Where the old veterans smile their toothless smiles. Beckoning to the pigeons perched on a bench waiting for him to die, so they can make the crumbs on his clothes their dinner. Across town our soup kitchens run dry,back to the dumpster. City funding, what a joke!
Reason for writing:
I really had no inspiration for this poem, as a matter of fact most of my poems are just what ever i happen to be feeling at the time
Birth sign: Aquarius
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Dan.