Tragedy Of Our Youth (Poem)

They sit in chaos churning

Twisting and breaking over time.

Like boiling pots just waiting

To explode;

Or, at least for now

Boil over.

They sit and stew

Until tender.

Beaten down

By their ways of life.

Pot heads slowly stewing,

Wasting their lives away.

The drugs, the pain, the isolation.

The circuitous route to nowhere.

They appear bent on their own destruction.

Round and round they go.

Hopeless, unhappy youth.

Banging sticks on cans turned to pipe joints.

Why have their ways gone wayward?

When did their hearts just stop?

For what is their ambition replaced with?

Lost pot heads, slowly stewing,

Wasting their lives away.

A tragedy of the commons,

Our youth.

Consuming until they themselves

Are consumed.

Feckless, fainthearted folly.

Lost pot heads, slowly stewing,

Wasting their lives away.

~ L. Davis, the farmer poet

A poem about the children we’ve lost to drug use and the sadness families feel when we can’t help them nor reach them anymore.

 

 

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