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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
I woke up today,
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,
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