Snow araund their boots,they gather
Like an embodiment of the weather:
Huddled there, herded like cattle,
They are animals dressed for battle.
One smokes, another sprawls,
Three of them sloganise the walls,
They
look askance at Princess Street
Defiantly in their defeat:
Their breath clouds in the cold.
These yaoung boys horribly old,
Have nothing (heads shorn of hair)
They do nothing pollute the air
With verbal debris, have nothing to declare
They look ahead and blankly stare:
Their eyes are onions of despair.
This is a deadly poem by Alan Bold, i
think that is really clever I published this becouse i think that every body should be aware of ths kind of people, rejected by the family and comunity....