Are There Any of Us Left

The cruel streets I walked made me sad I looked not at him, nor at her Those who passed me by, gutter grads I felt at home among the curs We were outcasts from hearth and home Over the land our kind did roam. Looking here and then searching there As many as stars in the sky By foot, by car, sometimes by air We wanted to understand why We couldn't go back where we'd been Burned our bridges and that's a sin. Some were poets within their hearts A killer or two in the crowd And some were like me; a la carte Doing what it took to be proud Some chased women, some ran from them And in the melee some lost a gem. I sit here writing words of mine Wondering how many are left Who write words and sell for a dime I have escaped death's cold, cold theft I have fought the fight and I've won I'm old yes, but I've just begun