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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2289393
A poem about desolation; hopelessness.
I’ve had a walk down Lonely Street
A place where only losers dwell,
A place that lovers never know
But weary losers know too well.

The endless breath of winter
Seems to crawl along your spine,
When you go down to Lonely Street
The weather’s never fine.

The place is dark and gloomy
Black clouds fill up the sky,
People live on Lonely Street
But most go there to die.

Thunder and lightning flashing
As heavy rains begin to fall,
From the shadows, you hear a voice
Is this the Reaper’s call?

The plight of the lonely loser
So easily comes to light,
When people stray down Lonely Street
Their days have turned to night.

For no-one but the hopeless
Wander down to Lonely Street,
No-one except the fallen
For whom life is ever bleak.

Lonely Street’s next door to Hell
At least for abandoned souls,
For whom the fire of life went out
Their hearts have turned to coal.

Lonely Street is for the lost
For people who have no hope,
For loners given up on life
Who find they cannot cope.

Lonely Street is the finish
Of all your hopes and dreams,
A place where silence reigns supreme
Broken by sobbing screams.

The summer sun never shines
Not down that loathsome road,
Nothing good ever comes to stay
Within this foul abode.

© Copyright 2023 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
© Copyright 2023 Mayron57 (philroberts at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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