foster
Learn more about other poetry terms
Dressed in green, I fly,
Through the stars, the sky,
Finding those like me, lonely,
Left by people who loved them not, lovely,
So we can be lonely boys togehter, lost boys,
Oh revered statesman, what is the cost, sir
For all of your bombs, for all of your wars
Can we set aside money to afford
To provide a loving home to foster
To shield the innocent from their monster
Hey little brother, I watched you grow before my very eyes
I tried to protect you and your little heart from the lies
I think back to when you were 5 and my tears flow
The things that were going on, how could you know?
I am a foster youth, I am the voice of countless others
Though my lips speak, this is the voice of my sisters and brothers
The voice of those that are still silent in despair
Concerned hand
Shoots up
Riddled with
Purple tracks along
Vein’s corridors indicating
Another kind of shooting
Eyes glassy yet aware
Functioning child
Unknowing of what his
What an honor it was to have
grown up in the melting pot
of another women’s grave yard.
I belonged to someone and it was effortless.
Didn’t have to tug, twist and turn to much to squeeze the
The creaky, half-snapped sidewalk chalk
talks out the problems of my lonesome childhood.
My thickly-marked, Fruit-Loop colorings and
blurred characters console me
about my constant house-swapping because
Hopes and dreams cut every few months,
like the front lawns of our suburban neighborhood.
Notice how they hate to see growth.
As soon as there are any signs of it,
they come, machine in hand,