School of Hard Knocks
When you live on the streets, you
attend the school of hard knocks.
And think you've hit bottom
until you feel the sharp rocks.
You wake to a throbbing pain
pounding away in your head.
And you're filled with dread, Oh God,
you kind of wish you were dead.
This can't be a hangover,
for you haven't been drinking.
But, your head is exploding,
and it hurts to be thinking.
You figure out where you are,
just as the doctor walks in.
And like a silly young fool,
you slap on a happy grin.
You survived a bad beating,
slipping death's grip, yet once more.
And quickly gaining your wits,
you shrewdly head out the door.
The lost children of the street
are more than eager to play.
But, for every lesson taught,
someone always has to pay.
(Quatrain)
3/29/2017
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