He Was Homeless Junkyard
Stained yellow teeth, decades of mistreatments;
Tattered worn hair, mustered stare...
Worn torn shoes just vagabond, dementia rusted mind;
Seems he's been here before, open spaces relics;
My yard is filled with junk; What's up--
Rusted rattled metal, such a waste dried up sores, rusted;
Out of date ragged clothes, ON THE FENCE
Decades of mistreatments, homeless surrounded by substance;
His environment anywhere, his life going nowhere;
If he dies right now will his organs be parted out;
Guts and organs sold he mutters and says I am a junk yard;
My mind scrap collected recycled discarded;
I'm dream his dreams of preoccupation;
Trapped in thoughts odiousness wrecked spirit;
The populist calls the me lay;
Homeless thoughts on his private injustice;
My the junk, my mind is trash Died
So people cried another thrown away soul;
Deposited...
thrown away as an ...Junkyard
10/5/19
For My Favorite Junkyard
Sponsored by: craig cornish
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