Street Life written: Oct. 16th, 2017
Reality, is hers to own, beautiful, delicate and sweet; her mere presence can leave you mind void as though someone’s pressed delete. Her play is to be admired, “vivacious” young tender; now now give in, this is your chance to surrender. Hiding behind a mask, “butterful” so unique; what others fail to see, is that she’s already reached her peak.
She plays the street life, cuz there’s no place she can go; street life, it’s the only life she knows; street life, there’s a thousand parts to play; street life, until she plays her life away. Her moves exceeds her mind, leaving her at “witts end”; now she caught in the trenches and can’t comprehend. Her entitlement can not be achieved by her beauty alone; the streets was her oyster, a was etched in stone.
She plays the street life, cuz there’s no place she can go; street life, it’s the only life she knows; street life, there’s a thousand parts to play; street life, while she plays her life away. She’s in to deep, her brains at a lost; her past is catching up, his time to pay the cost. One move to many, and she didn’t even see it coming; sitting in a luxury suite, violins is strumming. A snap of the neck and her chins on her chest; two weeks later, she’s being laid to rest. This was not suppose to be a part of the play; but she played the street life until she played her life away.
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Writer profile Stephen Reed
Stephen Sugarman Reed
P.O. Box 1050
Soledad, CA. 93960