The Pain of the Street

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

The emotional and physical pain of being homeless. There but for the Grace of God, go you or I.

The concrete jungle is my home

This cardboard box, my shelter from the storm.

I never I thought my life would be like this

Never thought I'd deviate so far from the norm.

You avoid my gaze, you look through me

You pretend I don't exist.

My being homeless makes you uncomfortable

You swear, you would never live like this.

Food and shelter, you take them for granted

Once apon a time, so did I.

I used to have a job and a home and a family

I lost them all, once I started getting high.

My drug of choice was cocaine

A wicked taskmaster is she.

A Twisted domineering mistress

I am but a shell of the man, I used to be.

The cold hard sidewalk is unforgiving

The streets are filled with crime.

I beg like a dog, for a scrap of food

Because I don't have a dog gone dime.

I try not to look in mirrors

I don't like the image I see

I avoid my reflection in windows

There's a pathetic, wretched old man,

staring back at me

I pray that in Gods Kingdom

There's a new home waiting for me.

One where there is no hunger

No pain, and no poverty.


Submitted: May 03, 2007

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