homeless boy

night spirits conspire to slink up from behind

climb in his head to muddle with his mind

he tries to be so quiet, so they don't know he's there

there's no escaping, night spirits are everywhere

he's in control! at least doing his best to deny it

but night holds a mind full of fear, tempting him to defy it

out on the tracks where ladies play their tricks

he asks,  "is it me, them, or something else cracking those sticks?"

the clicking and snapping, so near, sounds so clear

but there's nothing, really nothing, to hide from or fear

the night ladies are laughing and howling at him, or the moon

he says to himself, just a few more hours, it'll be dawn soon

and the visions of insanity that conquer his mind

will melt away with the dew when nightfall unwinds

and the lost little boy, on the tracks where the ladies play

will be a hero, or a knight, or a king the next day

he'll triumph his bravery, he likes to live dangerously

but at he's just a boy on the tracks homeless and lonely