Teens survive broken hearts,
Children, broken bones,
But no one, not a soul I know
Could survive this broken home.
A cracked nest on the ground,
Rotted womb on the floor,
Leather justice on the wall,
Skin is red and sore.
Fathers should be bread winners, and
Matriarchs should not have bruised knees
Sons should not be living on streets,
and daughters shouldn't be on speed.
And someone next door,
No, not even me
Should write about the lost souls
Drowning in failed dreams.
_____
I couldn't do this poem justice and end it well. I lost it.
