Pawn Shop Towns Poem by Phil Volatile

Children are overdosing
on heroin and they’re
not much older than 14
The parents hit the street
panhandling for money
to bury their deceased

And after one look at them,
you realize that poor child
never even had a chance, and
you start to wonder if it’s
all just a big hoax

You never saw a pawn shop
town with so many tattoo parlors,
liquor stores, churches, bars,
and police stations—on the
same damn street

But there’s a million of these
towns that are like factories,
breeding hate and fear that only
the fortunate will never meet

And these zoomed up
kids die like saints, for
someone else’s
dollar


from White Wedding Lies, And Discontent: An American Love Story