Queen of 48th St.

Author:

Kenneth is a rural citizen of Hamilton, Ala., and has begun to observe life and certain things and people helping him to write about them.

Don't cuss me. Don't drag my name in the dirt
I've had enough. I'm through. I'm leaving
You took my money. Stole my nae and good Sunday skirt.
I'm the Queen of 48th Street, you be bereavin'

I own this filthy spot, disease lives with me
Crawlin' up to the light--draggin' down my breath.
I open my bloody eyes that I might see.
I'm the Queen of 48th Street and tired to death.

My babies left a day or so ago. I shed the night
My skin's sick, but I walk on stones.
The music of the ghetto fades from illusio light.
I'm the Queen of 48th Street, death trembles.

Why say wolf in sheep's clothing, he's around?
Crawling, crawling no stopping in breath thin.
Inside the shell, laughing at Hades, in my ground.
I'm the Queen of 48th Street. I've ne'er been.

Sundown red, slow motion meets midnight
I fall asleep and dream of love discreet
I cringe, I yell at high places in someone's light.
Jus know. I'm the Queen of 48th Stre

February 1, 2021__________________________________________________

My View

Inside the perimeters of this piece, you may find
the Anti-Christ; famine, and a cold-hearted love.
It's easy. I promise. (Kenneth),