"Broken Home"
by Bruce Denton
Huddled up,
In the corner of an empty room,
Alone, she's crying.
Racking pain and convulsions,
Shaking,
Slowly dying.
Remember her?
The skin, pale -
And drawn to her face
A vacant expression
Degenerating, waste.
She's someone you know,
From a broken home.
Only sixteen,
Another has-been.
Remember her now?
Comments
excellent poem good job
