Where I am from the streets have numbers.
They are not big on the idea of names.
The woods of East Texas are in a state of slumber.
We have not the an idea of our aims.
The cities and counties are ran by cadre of cretins.
That has no care about the people and their dreams or wishes.
Some families can’t even tell if they will continue eatin’.
One day they might end up sleeping with the fishes.
Okay, I know that all poetry does not have to rhyme, but I tried to do all I know how to in the poem writing world. Thank you for including me. 😁❤️