Little voices cry out
in the middle of the night.
They cry for love from their parents.
They are alone in the middle of the night.
They lie on the sleeper couch:
old and sagging,
springs pushing through
the old and tarnished mattress.
The mother and father are out working,
for the one bedroom apartment,
just barely supporting themselves.
The mother and father have too much to drink:
leaving hardly any food
for the family of four.
The voices cry for food;
their 5 and 7 year old bodies grow weaker.
Their virgin minds and ears are gone:
like the mother and father.
i really like this poem! i can picture everything i love the line "their 5 and 7 year old bodies grow weaker" it a much better way of stating it then just saying "their bodies are weaker i really like it jefe!
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