Boys and Girls


The window
Outside of which is crying,
Little girls,
Hair of swirls,
Tormented by little boys.
Violence,
Not silence,
The playful game of dying,
Girls will run,
T’is not fun,
Fleeing to escape the toys,
In shadows,
Hearing myself, I’m sighing

Crashing glass
And silence is now shattered,
Near the wall
A baseball
Rest after its destruction.
Now the boys
Lost of toys,
In fear have quickly scattered;
She remains
To take the blame,
The fear holds her in traction.
Through the glass
I see her dressed in tatters.

The window,
Dark insides casts reflections,
Of grown girls,
And grown boys,
Passing by now hand in hand.
Without curls,
Without toys,
Ladies in men’s protection,
Perhaps proud,
Maybe loud,
Then cuddling when they can.
In shadows
A lonely tattered girl stands.

Gloom 99

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