I was a pumpkin
Grown and harvested in the richest soil
My flesh could have fed
My seeds could have rooted
My life could have been meaningful
But instead of enriching the potential I had,
The top where my vines clung to my brothers and sisters was severed
Sawed off my crude hands
The loving goodness
The nutritious insides of my soul
Were pulled out.
Scraped along the sides of my shell.
It could have been prized
But it was
Left for the untouchables
A crooked smile was carved into my hardened flesh
And seedy eyes took over for a face.
What am I?
How did this happen to me?
I wait on the porch now,
Filled with artificial light
Waiting until the youth of the neighborhood
Stamp me out in the street.