Erased lines on palms.
No identity,
For fingers have lost their prints
A home has lost her prince.
To live a rough life
With smooth hands vigorously rubbed
But friction is futile
when warmth is held hostage
By a sharp breeze, that cuts skin.
With a cold winter dagger
Placed on necks uncovered by scarves.
Strangled throats,
Congested nasals,
in self defense blow grenades of disgust
As they burst
Oozing mucus, escaping suffocation
Under temperatures.
Sighing a breath that imitates smoke when it rises.
Body is a vibrating colosseum
for gladiator cells
As David,
weapon less vs hypothermia Goliath
In a icy battlefield
Imagine.
How empty bellies wrestle starvation
not so Royal when tummies rumble.
Gnashing teeth collide at war
A shield of injured drums
Imbawula, wrapped in rust
Fed wood, would spew flames.
So they gather around the fire
Not just for heat
but to see the light
At the end of the winter tunnel
Stretching arms to catch a new season
That kangaroos and Springs out of sight
Leaving frozen hopes
Don’t follow the light
As pupils dilate
So they die it’s too late
Now they are late..
They have been deceived
This is a mortuary
Another street kid has been found dead this winter.