A boy slurps his berry Popsicle as a stranger licks his lips.
Gazing at a sticky grin, an old man tightens grip.
He’s gripping onto morals that chime his mind is wrong.
He bows his face in plain disgrace for spurring red lips on.
A sin of thoughts, mind the court. Jury solely lead.
No action taken, no life forsaken. The crime is in his head.
A pervert in the closet, a predator debating. .
Do we sentence him to prison for a crime that lay’s in waiting?
Do we open hearts to illness, treating man’s affliction?
Provide a place that won’t disgrace to heal with no conviction?
I would love to hear your thoughts on this topic. Rehabilitation or incarceration?
This poem is not written to cast judgment or condemn. I am sorry if my words are offensive to anyones personal experiences.
This was written after observing a stranger on a park bench.
Love heals above all…