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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


dubbed trash by the many &

revered by the few,

sitting on the street curbs &

nesting on the steps

so if ya don’t like what you see

you better

rub em’ till’ they bleed &

waiting on the piggies

strolling long the sidewalk

washing up the storefronts

of all the kids of the future

sick of the present

with skateboards in hand

cigarettes drooping &

a look of fresh new rage

peeling out from their own eyeballs &

we’re on the other side of the street

lighting up the wicks

we got the molotovs blazing &

you know it should’ve been this way

years ago

why we waited oh so long

we’ll never really know

it’s been little by little

day by day

we’ve been walking with our baby steps

gaining momentum like a rolling ball of clay

picking up the dust & the dirt & the scum

i’d rather be down in the sewer any day with the rats

than one minute with the glamourglitz

rolling in a lump sum

because this is where we rumble, fucks,

this-z where we lay it down

we’ve got our wits sharp & our fists ready

our steel toed boots are kicking

towing intel neath’ the underground

reading writing on the walls

setting fire to everything we can

waiting for it to fall.

Submitted: April 13, 2012

© Copyright 2022 delapruch. All rights reserved.

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