A Bedtime Story for the Fortunate Children

This is where they meet
the forgotten with those who have forgotten them
bag less women
widows
children
like you
men
like your dad
soliders
like your brother
elders
like your grandparents
sitting up right
begging
praying
starving
begging
yet working
yet playing
but starving

this where they meet
nieghbors
nothing seperates
only divides
within what the other
values to being a live

this where they meet

curled toes upon boxes
yet beds
yet homes
yet beds
yet boxes
but homes
they beg
and they play
and perfrom

while those who are
fortunate
past by--drop coins to be entertained

and the forgotten
they entertain
they dance--they play--they seldom speak
but do they entertain

the fortunate claps
and laughs
and claps
and throws coins
and laughs

the forgotten
dance
and dance
and weeps
and dance
and entertains
and receives coins
and dance
and weeps
and performs
but still dance

when the beach has closed
the forgotten sleeps
the fortunate leaves
and the forgotten sleeps
and fortunate leaves
they leave
and they weep
the forgotten weeps
and the forunate leaves
and the forgotten sleeps on the beach
waiting for another day at work...
when they will meet
and they will laugh
and throw coins
and they will meet
they will meet once again at the beach
but until then the forgotten sleeps

toes curled upon thier make-shift homes
they sleep.

So I thought I could get a day of rest and peace from my mind at the beach...but this is what I say I left enraged and empowered to write. So I wrote.