LOST SOUL
The poet walks on dirty feet
on the streets of his adopted city.
His hands are rough and his clothes
are filled with dust. His stomach groans.
His heart is hard and his eyes are
teary. His arms have needle mark scars.
He seems like another lost
soul. Years ago he had certain
dreams. His path took a detour.
This is where he is now.
© 2008 Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal/
West Covina, CA
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