Torn Dungarees
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In alleys devoid of light,
runaways sleep on the street.
And fear arrives late at night
to feed upon their conceit.
Delusions exchanged for lies,
youths gather within the park.
And tears trickle from young eyes
watching hunger carve its mark.
Drugs ease their physical pain
feeding frustration and doubt.
For their monsters can't be slain
on the fringes of burnout.
Scrounging in torn dungarees,
youth adopts brutality.
And fragmented memories,
are lost to reality.
As hypocrisy walks by,
street urchins barely survive.
And if fledgling birds can't fly,
can they ever feel alive?
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2016
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