14800
New York City....Vicious Cycle
Pushed to the edge by reality, yes, these verses will stifle.
A revolving door always present; New York City....Vicious Cycle.
This is a poem about the hardships, and monotony of this age
The world unchanging in its essence....many problems to assuage.
Why is our purlieu in such predicaments, the morass so intense?
It seems the fire has been extinguished; in other words we've acquiesced.
Hallways, alleys, subway stations/where the weak and troubled roam.
Considered dross by our society, that's why the streets became their home.
Our youth in dire straits, how can they be redeemed?
High school dropouts, teenage suicide, and for crack my brothers fiend.
Homeless people are anathema; we seldom love the poor…
New York City...Vicious Cycle....where daily living is abhorred.
A nimbus cloud, can't see the acme/ Where Then Can Love Be Found?
The cacophony breaks the silence; the voice of weeping does resound.
Welfare parents in a quandary, just barely scraping by.
Elderly people doing no better...though receiving S.S.I.
New York City....Vicious Cycle, spreading like a deadly cancer.
Minority children disenfranchised; drug dealing is their answer.
Boys and girls, young and pretty/ jailbait, nowhere to run.
A perfect target for a pedophile; their tender lives have just begun.
Dark specters in every borough; people lost and living trifle.
Eight million stories, naked truth...New York City...Vicious Cycle.
