Cold nights in the open air,
People walk by, but they don’t care,
Going about their perfect lives,
That I shall never see.
Here I lay, all skin and bone,
Wishing I could have a home,
Life is full of monochrome,
Endless and gray.
I beg for help, I plead and cry,
Waiting for my time to die,
No one cares, I wonder why,
So here I sit all day.
Nighttime falls, the world gets dark,
Cooing owl, meadow lark,
Creaking trees now shed their bark,
Lurking in the night.
Dawn arrives, the sun now shines,
A dog runs by, emits a whine,
How I yearn to feast and dine,
Never to hunger again.
YOU ARE READING
Genre Spinning
PoetryThis was a project for English. In it, I had to write a fictional story about a homeless child in a park at night being accused of something. Then, I had to take the same story and convert it into other genres. This is the result. Enjoy (or not).
