The Good Old Times

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
They say it's progress.

Submitted: July 21, 2007

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Submitted: July 21, 2007

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As one gets older, one looks back,
to the good old days, down memories track.
Windows open, unlocked doors,
no one trying to steal, what is yours.
No gangs, rapes, or fights,
safety, when one walked the street at night.
No pot, coke, or speed,
the taking of drugs, there was no need.
Life was at a slower pace,
nowadays, every one acts as if they are in a race.
Both parents working, latch key kids,
no wonder the youth of today, is on the skids.
Work hard, show a profit, is the call,
as the mighty dollar, drives it all.
A social conscience, there is none,
what a mess, the modern world has become.

Tango .

 


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