**Thanks for the title Amy hon...This is for you.
I walked the streets tonight.
Tracing bro.ken sidewalk [memories]
In bare feet and broken glass
Telling the stories of our lives
In [sc.arred] feet and dirty faces.
At night we fell asleep to a .s c r e a m i n g. serenade of sirens
You always hoped they weren't for your house
.Always.
Days spend in gravel parks,
[or St. Joe Catholic ele., to those who called it for what it was.]
Those days you swung so hard
Trying to fly away [with] memories,
Some good, Some bad.
[or till you thought you would fall off the swing]
We lived our lives off of PB&J and sun sweet water straight from the hose
[.always tasted better that way.]
When dark crawled around
And the Walls of SJC, and colored gang sings
[Separating .life. and .d.e.a.t.h. in simple colors of .b/l/u/e. a n d .red.]
Were covered for another night's struggle
We carried our shoes
[if there were any to be had]
Walked on home
Some to parents and bowls of Ramen noodles and ravioli
[straight off the stove from the can]
Some walked, hoping they still had a home to go to.
The nights were cold
[The people were colder]
Money was tight
And parents often screamed
At each other,
[At us]
But it was home.
http://www.darkpoetry.com/node/work/60975
---
You received this message because you have set your preferences on DarkPoetry to send this type of email. If you want to stop getting this sort of message, you should simply visit the following URL and change your preferences.
Your username is omsspoem (uid# 23204)
If you falsely report this message as spam, your account may be administratively closed.
http://www.darkpoetry.com/profile/preferences
Become a Fan
Follow Us on Twitter
