Tear


A tear ran straight down
from the poor person’s face,
their living squalors no more.

Tears from the sky fell,
soft upon the poor’s soul
but hard upon the shoulders.

Tears oh tears oh tears,
healing the damned and dead
but scarring the living soul.

The first price of gentrification.


This post is made for the 50 word count contest. Click here to see it.

H2
H3
H4
3 columns
2 columns
1 column
9 Comments