deepundergroundpoetry.com

Roadside Boy

A pure boy, a heart of gold,

A future gone, Sixteen years old,

A roadside stained with blood and chalk,

Mere excuse for poisoned lips to talk,
 
His mortal flesh that does decay,

It shall not hold any sway,

Over his immortal soul or memory,

Sirens call men to their end,

They make their tune and flash their lights,

Senseless speed around the bend,

A waste of life,

A futile plight…
Written by IsaacNewe
Published
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