Whispers from stone

Stigmas fall like rain
upon the backs of the young,
souls rooted to broken stone.
There are no sidewalks here only streets.
Colors fade to gray.
There are no homes here only government structures erected as gods
creeping through the veins of the hungry.
Restless dreams given from broken walls,
taken captive by plates filled with rationed mantras
sung by those who hear but do not listen.
Poverty like a cancer grows
binding the arms of the young
to whispers from stone.

*new writing published this morning on Spillwords

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s