The street had become a monster
Whose appetite craved soul after soul
A beast with multiple addictions
Cunning yet predictable
An insatiable lust for trash
It would swallow up the wounded
The disenchanted
The ones who cried that life was not fair
The beggars
The bleeding was great,
The woman it admired had many scars
Could not nurture
Or love
The men were cowards
Little boys waiting for a toy train
That would never arrive
It was hard but I had to move on
I could no longer try and help
The wounded
Clinching onto to nightmare
Hoping it would become a dream
Its all gone I said
I bid you an overdue goodbye.



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Brilliance Beyond A Beautiful Face Emily Brontë Charles Bukowski William Blake Lord Byron Elizabeth Bishop