Sitting on the banks of the Prospect park lake.
I spied a Guppy soon to be born again.
Efficient and significant towards nature
And I , a certain nothing, damned at birth.
Operational in human ways.
I then pissed a stream of despair.
Muttered a line of self condemnation.
And cursed God and mother.
Such cause too task I wondered.
But why? A simple dive would end it all.
The surplus pain then denied.
And my ride to Hell, one of splendor.
No average benevolence.
Shit stains on my draws.
This child of eight.
Perhaps meant to be raised by a herd of whore's.
Charity they say begins at home.
But when home is nowhere.
Oh that heart, it can be so alone.
Nor are Gods words, now soiled, meant to attone.
A silver lining?. A troubadour to adore?
Or a snoring vagabond, cross legged by that boxcar door.
But whatever, there is always a disguise.
A warmer moment. A summer sunrise.
But still I remember that day in the park.
When hate reached out to me.
When my heart became ever dark.
And Irene. That gal next door, was then my only spark.
By H Rap fox
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