Poetry Hour: No Roses

No Roses

There are no roses in the concrete

Just purple liquid turned rose when it comes to contact with oxygen

Bodies rocked like chairs

There is no chalk for hop scotch

all used up for body outlines

And all the president can talk about it Osama

What about the war my brother faces every time

he walks out the door

RIPs are in abundance

because clearly the good die young

let’s no wait for the future

because he might not make it

People living day by day

Tell me less about a college plan

when a casket seems more feasible

We’re losing

Until someone can put the gun down

but be weary of the man behind him

because it only takes a half a second

for him to make a life decision

We’re losing good men

to righteous causes like

colors, and sets, and money

that act like all those things equal respect

Too bad college degrees

can’t be used as shields

street smarts ooze like tainted guts

What do you have left to prove?

There are no roses growing out of the concrete

Just bodies that won’t smell as pretty

*Original poem with all rights belonging to me. Don’t steal*

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