A Hen To Men
A hen to men
Mama's driving along to Seattle looking for her
runaway daughter, when out of the blue she
hears the radio host reading a poem written
by PP that's fast becoming a hit on social media
... life's delves not twelve ...for stave her grave. Please
Paris hear me, mamas on her way.
Mama then stares off to the other side of midnight,
praying that dawn is much better.
She runs
From guns
and men's
playpens
their lies
and highs
their slugs
and drugs
resist
their twist
she lives
survives
hell bells
bad spells
awaken
forsaken
she stands
her land
of worth
on earth
a hen
to men
she squawks
the walk
she's tall
to fall
life's delves
not twelve
so young
and sprung
feathers
weathered
for stave
her grave
Signed, Paris Pachecho
connie pachecho
12/29/16
Copyright © Connie Pachecho | Year Posted 2016
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