Criminal Poet

There is blood
In the city moonlight,
Beautiful hoodlums
Parade like Labor Day
Through the sad streets
Seeking girls with tattoos
And lonely hearts.

And sweetheart,
That’s the way
I’m seeking you:
I’m a criminal poet
Trying to break every rhythmic rule
To touch your hair
And become your fool.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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