Streets of Battles
Asking if we will ever see our parents again.
This alleys are getting colder.
For these bones are growing older.
With the maggots that lie on my shoulder.
I will never accomplish my plans.
Instead I will just kick this old brown can.
For these baby blue skies are turning devilish black.
These nails are clawing my back,
And make me bl**d
Copyright © Ali Matheny | Year Posted 2009
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