Lives Never Rhyme: Latenight Poetry

Homes with shattered glass and open doors,
open keyless doors,
that are as hospitable as that enormous hospital
on the other side of the city where children are born…
born into families with half-broken smiles.
Then, the children grow in those homes
and find their likes, learn about their dislikes.
Their lives begin to rhyme,
but they’ll never truly rhyme.
Then, the children grow
with scratches of thrown rocks, with broken hearts,
with roofs burned down.
Yet, the children grow.
They grow until it is time to die
with bullets in their backs from life,
their hearts in their hands,
and their tears barely falling…
Their deaths begin to rhyme,
but they’ll never truly rhyme.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s