Home

Midnight walks as there’s no more sun,

Their hearts must manage now there’s no more fun.

Lonely walks yet, the city talks if you care to listen.

The streets are lit as the lamp posts glisten.

The silent wind blowing against their skin and the faint noise of the cars in a distance

There’s resistance in their bones, no feeling to go home

If home is just a feeling then walking has more meaning; simple yet appealing?

Walking in the cold and feeling warm, sad to say the streets is a place some people call home

-D. Edwards | www.pain2poetry.com

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