Garbage bags,black, dragged behind me

away from the school I have come to love,

away from the family I have come to know. 

Just another sea of faces in this relentless institution that is my existence. 

Where am I to go now? group home, foster home, juvenile detention center

they are all the same in essence...an entraptment of the body, of the soul. 

The cages restrain my fluttering heart, seeking love like a bee seeks nectar. 

The broken promises, broken hearts, broken lives, I have lived and sustained

echo in my ears. Love, love, love - the whispering of the ocean from a seashell.

An enticing prospect to a street child- one who lives heer lives out of a garbage bag.

Not homeless, but homeless all the same- for she seeks love to be her home.

She would  give her life but to view a glimpse of love's embrace. This is what filters

through her head as she drags along her black garbage bag. Noone but her

seems to remember that trash bags can break, they are much too weak to

support the contents of a life or the contents of my sorrow.