Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 14


They roam the streets at night, looking for love and change in all the wrong places
They are society's forgotten, begotten
We've gotten
So apt at forgetting the inept steps that echo in the alleyways behind us
I long for a day when the lost children of ghosts
reclaim their place as runners in this human race
keeping pace with the weak and the broken
have so long deceived these into believing in false dreams and
so until the day dumpsters are only known as homes for waste
I'll waste my days making hasty plans for this caste of misunderstood faces
training wasted breaths to join the furious paces of society's spaces
playing cards of face while withholding all the aces
Brace for it.

Revolution will ring through these streets like church bells at weddings and funerals
and society will rue the day it chose money over man,
and bread over brother
and when the battle is peaked and they turn on one another
the fat cat systems that run banks and stash cash will burn
while god and God sit silently by,
exchanging looks and laments of lost love while
weeping as an infant
for its mother.

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