My Village Poem by Gulliver Gimble

Going down and falling fast.
My village is restless with new comers.
Distilled combinations of worried eyes.
Thoughtless members of town hall.

They come from places I know of.
Leaving behind the like for better lives.
Bringing with them youthful disgrace.
Many more as years go by.

A sinkhole for houses rented to shame.
Suitable as the grass grows knee high.
Wanna be gangster and blind eyes.
My village is crumbling.......down.

The old have left for country peace.
Now only broken houses for broken homes.
We are still here, we watch it die slowly.
Sour streets, broken pavement, disembodied, my village..........