"Sad Little Lives"

Born to the cold

A baby cat cries

To a world that is deaf

And has half-open eyes.

His Mother is helpless

Sad Little Lives

The cold spring morning reached to my soul

as his hand stood out asking for but a piece of coin

and

The sky's a rusty razor raining suicide and sadness
Hanging heavily above like the picture of perfect despair
And resting

She walked along the promenade
With a prolonged gestation of pounding thoughts
The sun was dying spreading blood in the western

Bright lights in the middle of the room
With secret dark corners
Hidden passages filled with gloom
A pleasant party outside
Deep