South Clerk Street

A walk into a scenery of strife,

With Poverty rife,

An exhibit, of ancient ruin, of fractured life,

As people simply passby,

None can look directly in it's eye,

Your shallow breath and hanging fear,

surrounds and clouds your senses here

The Living dead trudge up and down 

without purpose, with constant frown

Their twisted, contorted, crushed faces

Amble cracked concrete pavement

So forlorn,

depraved from life's excesses

Decrepit, bent and torn,

Encapsulated by a grey day,

Caring not, what come may.

Feeble, drawn, and quartered,

Pushed, stretched and wretched,

Dry mouth and sickly stomach,

Sandpaper scratched and acid raw

Cutting out spirit, hurting their core.

This is South Clerk Street

Where the people's eyes and hearts fail to meet.

Where the shadows become larger than the Sun can ever reach

Where one and alls existence is bleak

An experience I wouldn't wish on anyone to greet.

When you walk down South Clerk Street,

please don't cry, just take a moment,

look down and meet one's eyes.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

"Brothers and sisters die,
Neither shedding a tear nor taking the time to cry."

[Sami Khalil]

Very interesting write. Thank you for sharing...:)...............