Civil Casualties…
The homeless cannot sleep on cold nights,
they gather around a burning barrel, men,
women and children, forgotten, shattered
and despised. In the distance, a baby cries.
Begging for food, living on the streets, no
jobs, family no longer sound.
Government talks end up in contradictions,
massive poverty is the prediction. The spirit
freezes, fruit of labors rot, life squeezes and
struggles persist. Bad luck smothering heart
and soul, hope ceases to exist.
Shifting winds turn into storms, will the world
grow wiser or beaten back into servility? Trust
departed, a cardboard box in the streets is
where the homeless make their beds, hope
disappears and the future appears dead.
©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree
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Such a heartbreaking problem. You write of it so well.
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Thank you. E.
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Welcome.
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Thank you for increasing awareness of this important issue. It is, also, close to my heart.
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