Silently they prowl. In
gangs howling in hunger wondering
what led them over the edge.
They wonder who marked the ledge
and why the fall hurt so bad.
Sadness and filth.
Desperation.
Had God truly forsaken or was it the bottle and ******
Then why do they stay in the alley
like a Jew in the Promised Land?
The milk and honey is all but sand that brings no sleep.
The Deep is dark and swallows
dreams but not hope.
Hope is all they have.
A better tomorrow.
A new today.
Something to sway fate's grip on a burdened shoulder.
Providence is rare but endure like boulders
of a mountain. They cry out
-Why?
The worst can't come tomorrow
if it came yesterday.
But today they lay in their cardboard.
Hidden behind society's sweet smile.
All ties cut and sewn with lies.
The blood still fresh on the chopping block.
The cleaver bound for another round.
The clock never stops.
Slaaam goes a hand
against the whore's cheek.
-Only the meek inherit the earth
she remembers the Father say.
A happier day to remember but today no acre is hers.
She will sleep and dream and cry.
For Grim's helping hand.
The ticket out of the human condition.
A release to white.
Sins washed and cleaned fit for a God to see
life may not be the Eden he planned.
Tonight they sleep hoping the wears and tears this
perpetual nightmare to end.
A new beginning.
A second chance.
Life.