Waif

I feel your eyes looking at me As I pass by at a quarter to three When you should be tucked away By your parents at the end of day Running around in a gang complete No shoes being placed upon your feet You learnt the hard way about life Known by the law in perpetual strife Your mother likes the drugs and drink Partying with the different men she meets And none of them will stick around Leaving in the morning without a sound I wonder who would teach you the right way How to live and in the future have a say Or will you be left to be cast aside With no place within society to abide. © Paul Warren Poetry