Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2015
Orange shaded lamp that's lit at 1 am, in the city of the angels where the homeless seem to live.
The tents are growing plenty as the poverties commence,
there's a *** for every bottle sitting in a city full of bins.

For every sin there's a bump, for every bar a new actress,
in some conversation is a liar hidden behind a foreign thick accent.
Someone hired, someone fired, by the beach are many lost kids,
some are tired, some are wired, most don't know that they exist.

Picture perfect life instead that is wanted by the masses.
All prone to life that's close to **** cause no one likes to give up chances.-JS
Random chances for advances are held ransom to circumstances
Written by
JS  Los Angeles
(Los Angeles)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems