Concrete Bed

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 24, 2017

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Submitted: February 24, 2017

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Why is he there

too wasted to think,

on a bed of concrete;

he needs one more drink.

 

Overnight in jail

his punishment be

found crawling the streets

on bended knee.

 

He feels like a fool

Warden’s shake their heads

Laying, embarrassed and unkempt

on a concrete bed.

 

He tossed and turned

‘till the new mourn

 face in his hands

cursed the day he was born.

 

Bail was posted

a fool took a chance

he’s a no good drunk 

can tell with one glance.

 

He’ll be back soon

on this concrete bed

 alcohol the culprit

he’ll wish he was dead.


© Copyright 2018 Mimie Durand. All rights reserved.

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