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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I’m talking to you about a young white boy wandering bad neighborhoods You never warned me about the wolves in the woods You simply walked me to the edge and you left without a word You didn’t tell me how to wage a war without armaments, or an army So there I was to either waste away or war with the weather Storms were just something to beat And it’s death, To defeat and battle back in the bleakness of horrid heat To win over the frigid fiascoes the rain with its virgin drops and unholy wind And it ain’t going to do me no good to start having contrition now because I’ve sinned You never forecasted a forest filled with fiends and fear You simply and stealthily took off and left me there Alone again to find a way to find what I need most A forest in which I had to fend for myself And defend myself against a ghost I looked out for snakes that slither the city sidewalks hawking their wares The ones like I with needles and need You didn’t tutor me on how to feed myself or find shelter because money is a thing of the past Since every vagrant penny goes in your arm You didn’t explain how easily my physical being could meet Hell or come to harm Walking into a trap because the man says he’s got that which I am there for Then he puts a gun to your head the minute he closes the door And the money that was supposed to buy you peace was no more The woods, the forests, the darkest avenues of avid scum out to avenge something or someone because in the woods there are a lot of hungry people and others who can live on revenge alone for what someone else has done And in the forest there are varied types of fruit growing on trees that tremble for my trouble But not one tree opted to shade me from the sun or not be withered by the wind And the birds of prey that come in pairs praying that death be mine You never told me about the darkness with no tunnel out or exit of any kind For we were none so blind You left me here with society’s victims who all wanted the same thing A way to wage a war, a way to weather a storm, some hope and thirty bags of dope When you put that first needle in my arm you knew it was a scary slope and that I would conquer or fall Yet and still you thought I knew it all Doing what needs to be done and done for good However here I am again, still searching for powdered peace in a bad neighborhood © 2011.....poefree
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