Promises

Cross my heart, and hope to die.

They peomise as they lie there,

Small and broken.

Hiding from society.

Shy,

in front of people who have not yet, spoken.

Cross my heart, and hope to die.

They vow,

With their silent pleas.

Infested with fleas,

As they tease the idea of being,

Secure.

Cross my heart and hope to die,

Lingers in their mind.

As they cry each day and night,

And fight the frozen winters.

Or the blazing summer as it blisters.

They dont all enjoy begging to be,

Like them.

With expensive jeggings,

or suits at weddings.

Cross my heart, and hope to die,

They decide.

Piliging dumpsters,

smelling foul enough to knock, someone under.

Under.

Below the tar pit they sit,

As we spit,

And walk on by.

Knowing that they sing,

Cross my heart and hope to die.

So why,

Hasnt anything changed?

They have sang for to long,

And now more have been added to, the throng,

And i wonder how they still sing this, song of life,

In spite of death that,

Might, come their way.

Cross my heart and hope to die,

Is a discusting lie,

like that fly sitting on their,

stained covers.

Ive watched them,

Cross their hearts, and refuse to die.

My minds eye cant take it.

Like starving children crawling,

Through the desert.

They are forsaken.

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