Awoken by the chirpin sounds.
Neighborhoods livened.Carols and bells.Freshly baked muffins.The sweet smell.That propells.The hunger within.Friendlyness reigns in different weights.Measured by status, the conjuring pains.Increase as the begger walks.To the light.Decorations of the midnight.And early morning. The begger rummages.Dinners served.Ice cold. Steal burns. Lids of trashes being turned.Milk and cookies for Santa. . .The begger pulls the make-shift blankets closer.Seeking closure.Fierce temperature exposure. Contemplating emotions weighing him down like he carries boulders. . .There's a brighter day.The next day.The spirit of the 25th.Hope to believe. The will to breath. The strength to live. . .
Number3
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The Beggers 25th
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just different
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COMMENTS
royale jones says: ggod poem love the ending you had me down for a second. nice visual! |
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Number3 says: thank you, Word Up |
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