"brockton" poems
Home is not a person
You cannot seek out a place to stay in a heart
Home is not where you’re from
Home is not where you’ve been
The house that has built you will be gone
The roof will collapse and the windows will shatter
Home does not exist
You are where you are
You go where you go
Your home is what is inside of you
Not a city
But there is comfort in driving down Brockton into the woods
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
royalty to all us in the hood we knew her
as the renowned duchess,her fame spread all the way to New Brockton
and far as Troy, earned, was her renown by the best at her
trade and fairness in commerce. For twenty dollars she would smile with
the best glamour as she flattered the less endowed, no matter.
She walked around like a midnight Covington ATM ,
give her one hundred she stayed all night, giving change.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC