Bronx Butterfly

  
  
A beautiful butterfly perched outside                        
my windowsill, such a sight to see                        
In a place where darkness dwells,                        
from the depth of a forgotten city                        
a wretched hell                                                
                                                
I hear a song like no other you've ever heard            
so tone deaf I can't even hear the words                      
gun shots ring out It's a thundering sound                      
with no witnesses to see and no cops around                                                  
        ­                                        
an ambulance screeches In the distance            
another soul, a life Is taken            
but this won’t be the last                        
somewhere a mothers heart is breaking                                                  
      ­                                          
from a few doors down                                                
I can hear a soft voice crying                      
a little girls plea, her hopes slowly dying                      
a bird with a broken wing struggles to fly                      
a beat up woman runs and hides                                                

a poor man lays In the streets        
with torn pants and nothing to eat        
no jacket for warmth no shoes on his feet                    
so discarded and alone with nowhere to go                
where will he end up nobody knows                                                  
         ­                                       
so many homeless families with broken dreams          
to weak to fight so hopeless it seems                  
the ghetto is a place where no one should be        
living life trapped in an impoverished reality                          
                               ­       
so to you I ask, are you guilty of greed?                    
are you the one are you ever In need                  
reach into your pocket and dig down            
deep because what you have now may not                  
be yours to keep                                            
                                                
For I am that Woman, Man, Child and Bird              
I come from the Bronx NY haven't you heard                                              
                    ~Word~                                      ­            
                                    
Copyright ©2005 J. Doucette                                                
All rights Reserved.