I knew a plain country boy
Who lived his life with simple joy,
Who jumped with the morning's lark
And smiled all day till past the dark.
Nothing bad was ever said
By anyonyone about the kid.
His heart was strong, and Lord, so was his back,
Until one day he smoked some crack.
Life and death were in a race
And horror shown plain on his face-
He cursed his folk and fled the town
And spilled the tears to make one drown.
He put a bullet in his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You sleeping folk who stand and sigh
As innocence go strutting by,
Just go home and pray you'll never know
The Hell where youth and laughter go.
*edit*-- It is very painful to have found this poem written by a friend of mine, Bill Watawa, who passed away in a car accident ten years ago. I put him here in honor of his memory. He was a cool guy.
Who lived his life with simple joy,
Who jumped with the morning's lark
And smiled all day till past the dark.
Nothing bad was ever said
By anyonyone about the kid.
His heart was strong, and Lord, so was his back,
Until one day he smoked some crack.
Life and death were in a race
And horror shown plain on his face-
He cursed his folk and fled the town
And spilled the tears to make one drown.
He put a bullet in his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You sleeping folk who stand and sigh
As innocence go strutting by,
Just go home and pray you'll never know
The Hell where youth and laughter go.
*edit*-- It is very painful to have found this poem written by a friend of mine, Bill Watawa, who passed away in a car accident ten years ago. I put him here in honor of his memory. He was a cool guy.
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