PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Red and blue lights flash as police talk in hushed tones,
Who is this little girl and why is she so far from home,
lying on the ground is a lifeless body so cold and alone,
stab wounds in the chest and half her clothes are gone,
only seventeen, raped and murdered, you know its wrong.

Half a block away the police handle yellow tape and chalk,
another body is covered as people watch, cry and talk,
his mother runs down the street as the tears drop,
the last of her babies shot as he took his sister for a walk.
look a little closer and youll see a smaller body covered beside her brother in the dark.

Two streets over another dead body in the makin,
the young man doesnt care how many pills hes already
taken,
a needle in his vein as his eyes rollback and he starts
shakin,
his young heart stops as onlookers gawk and someone mutters i think hes fakin.
another bystander gets impatient and tries to rouse the boy but hes not wakin.

The youth I speak of is harder to cling to,
see we reach,
for drugs, false love
as parents never teach,
babies makin babies,
dyin in the street,
i hope these forgotten souls find peace.

k.c.h.