Distilled to mere flesh and bone

Our mortal wounds

Divulge, our timeless concern

Courage, seems all for naught

Before thunderous roads

In want

For our fragile forms

In the prime

Of these loathsome days

We bower in tune

In kindred dismay

Yet ever-more stern

We remain

In our stride to thrive

Fulfilled and true

Beyond, our shroud of despair

© William Wright, Jr.

Excerpt from the book The Slums of Nightfall

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My name is William Lorenzo Wright, Jr. I am the youngest of three
children, as well as the only…