Welcome to My Poetry Site

6,587 poems read

Bad Neighborhood

Sleep is a rare commodity here
We talk about it every night - our bitter tongues drunk on burnt coffee

In a city where greetings come in the form of slanted glares and hushed whispers,
a bump in the night is never just a restless house
We stalk dim streets - our frantic eyes chasing silent shadows

Sirens aren't for broken bones here
We hang outside windows - our lungs breathe burnt oil

In a city where ambitions are dreams, evenings end with a bright light
We hit our heads against the pillow - our throats swell with silent screams




Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Bad Neighborhood