A Wayward Life

Born out of wedlock,
with a chip on his shoulder,
one that was as big,
as a cliff face, boulder.
From the age of seven
he was in constant trouble.
Then as he grew up,
His parents worries,
were set to double.
Police at the door,
both night and day
and sometimes they came,
and took the lad away.
Drink and drugs,
were always on the card
of this teenage lad,
who's parents worked hard.
Up in front of the Beak!
and sentenced to a year,
this wayward lad,
showed no remorse or fear.
So on he went, with a record
one that was now at hand,
spending more time than ever,
locked up, in the 'Hotel Grand!
At the age of forty,
and still no life sorted.
Wife and family,
now totally aborted.

by sylvia spencer

Comments (7)

A sad story that a lot of people go through.Going astray from the narrowed proper path.I'm just glad i found my way before i could even have a chance to stray. Others have trouble with the law, except for me.Those who hav not had trouble in life should be glad they have not. A good poem. My hat goes off to you. Best regards.
A touching read on a sadly all too common subject. Hugs Anna xxx
I wish there was a way for people to see before they get lost in the maze of curcumstance. Thankyou for this, you have shown us what a great artist you really are.Love Duncan
A great poem Sylvia and a good meesage to others well done Reagards Graham.
As always, a wonderful poem Sylvie. I always enjoy reading your work. Sincerely, Mary
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