Cursed

In a small town
no money
and even less hope
hopeless

He slides in it
right from wrong is blurred
right gets him a black eye
wrong gets him food

Kicked,
punched,
strangled,
and beaten from house to house

No place like home
the heart got left there
perhaps bits and pieces of it
he left in each house

His own personally desert
the concrete sand
the dune buildings
the mocking sun

His only permanent clothes
are his skin
his fragile barrier
scars showing stories

Then we wonder how
we wonder why
he is locked away
from one prison into another

Cursed