The street is
no place for you.
I know the drugs
have taken their toll
on your fragile soul.
You are running from
responsibilities
and the law.
You say you're scared,
little girl.
Winos sip from their
paper-bag beverages,
addicts shoot poison into
their hungry veins.
Violent men look for
"new girls"
to add to their
carnal stables.
Winter is coming soon,
little girl.
The cold nights will
only turn colder.
Where will you sleep?
Under cardboard?
A bridge?
Will death claim you?
Come home little girl!
Here you are loved,
here you are safe.
Face the music-
the tune of your own
instrumentation.
Little girl lost
and alone.
Please come home
before it is
too late.
This is written about my cousin who is living on the streets. It is not meant to "flow." This is raw emotion. I have changed very little since the day I wrote it--I want that emotion to remain raw.
~Nikola
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