A Place He Can'T Call Home

Born in a place he can’t call home,
he wanders the streets at night,
silently beckoning God,
desperately searching for something,
but not knowing what.
Sex, drugs and violence,
all he ever knew,
never had a yard,
never had a pool,
never had a first love.
As he wanders the street at night,
he knows the hardness of pavement.
Now, toting a gun,
he’s a big man,
thinks he’s finally found
what he’s looking for.
As the police shoot him dead
at the crime scene,
this young man,
born in a place he can’t call home,
has finally found home.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Warden Avatar
July 7, 2011 at 9:56 PM
Sad, but true in today's times..Very good.
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