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.

Submitted: May 03, 2007

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Submitted: May 03, 2007

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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.


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