Dead-End 

Your body has a
               ghost-town
feel 
with your hollow cheeks
                sunken eyes
Dust blows through you
That
                 ghost-town
feel
Didn't you stop
                 yesterday?
Well it's back
Your hair 
                 like the dried
leaves
rolling down gravel streets
They were filled
                  once
with laughing children
                   smiling
children 
Silence grips them
                   now
Not even a whisper 
                   can be heard
from you

All poetry copyright 1998 by Argentum Publishing