Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2022
I am standing on street corners
And huddled in the shelter
Every other
Fourth night
When the weather
Just, the frigid weather
Turns my bones to ice

He won’t drink with me like this
He can’t think beyond his brains, his fists
Feeling Real
Written by
Feeling Real  26/F
(26/F)   
83
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems