The Frosted Glass
No one listens to the poor kid,
Skinny kid wearing last year's fashions.
He wants to play but the others,
They fear poverty is contagious - I imagine.
Poor kid, silently siting on the sideline.
To the others he is like frosted glass
Almost as if they can see straight through him.
Skinny kid wearing last year's fashions.
He wants to play but the others,
They fear poverty is contagious - I imagine.
Poor kid, silently siting on the sideline.
To the others he is like frosted glass
Almost as if they can see straight through him.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.