Homeless

.
.
It stings like bees, the rain
The cold is really starting to bite
There’s no bed at the shelter, again
I might have to sleep rough tonight

Maybe if I ask the kind faced man who works here if he will
Put me up at his place
Only long enough to thaw out my bones and get rid of the chill.
I’ll leave as soon as the sun shows its face

It would be nice to rest and dry my clothes and shoes
In one of those warm apartments that from here seem a world away.
But he smiles sheepishly and makes a feeble excuse
So I smile back and thank him anyway.

Even the kind ones don’t care – they are cut off from my plight
Immune to my misery.
I’m in the blind spot of their moral sight
And outside the range of their sympathy.

The big heavy bag with all my things is making my shoulders smart
The constant cold and the hunger is causing me to lose my mind.
No one cares in this cold city with a pitch dark heart
So dark it has made the people that live here go blind.

What will I do? My body cannot take much more. soon it’ll break and die
Here on these streets, while people with warm food, warm clothes and warm homes are passing by.
.
.
OS

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