Writing at night is easy---
Living in the safe poetic world , creating private visuals -
to blot out paltry expectations
Naked before people that hurt for amusement ,
dying a little each hour but unable to fly away
The inverted turtle struggling in the noonday Sun
A bullet without the freedom provided by a gun
Forgotten son ... Forgotten son ...Move on as he'll
never amount to anything at all
Writing your feelings on scrap paper you stupid little boy