A HOME
a short poem about a people who have no home
As the sun goes up,
I wake up
in the street
dirt and grime torn old shirt
so cold, and so wind
I cover myself a cot with a blankets
that I've just pick in the street
for others, it is worthless
Leaves have flown from west to east
cold wind blowing
I can feel
I was still lucky to have
old boots and old jeans
it is my safeguard
My protection
for easing the breeze
I was shivering, hungry, and thirst
I was lost and no home
sitting in there with a cup in my hand
and small cardboard in front of me
I've just Watching the days go by
it feels like the economy
Bowing my head
I can't think
My stomach rumble and I'm so weak
slowly someone with a good heart
drop coins. I heard it
little they know,
as a homeless
we really appreciate It
I Move forward through the day
by cleaning car glasses and their windshields
go along with my buddies
performing in the street
After that
we help public to clean the street
collecting all the bottles selling it
it's a tragic
daily routine
but
we need to survive and to live
it is a reminder for all of us
that It's hard to live in the street
At the end of the day
I've earned a bit for foods
a reward for myself
a bread and a soup
it's not that much
but it's all worth it
it's night time
In the night time the world was so different
there were screams and cries, I saw blood and gore
stray dogs barking
the deafening sound from the car echoed around the street.
the Smell of alcohol wafted through the street
As the nights going deeper and deeper
flick, the ragged street lights rapidly went out one by one
the street was deserted, and the night felt eerie and silent
Huge giant buildings stood beside the street, so quiet and pitch black
but others still give light
The distant trees blow and howl in the gale like wolves
The clouds had gotten a sudden fascination to the moon and wrapped themselves around it
The rain start pouring, which was now deaf to ears
I hurried to find some place to stay in
but there's no place to be seen
My stomach was churning, and my knees felt weak
as I walk In the street to find a place to stay in
My guide is the moon
but hazy clouds envelope the moon
so only an old street lamp seemed to have stayed in a time which the rest of the city had forgotten
A tears stumbled and tossed down my face leaving glossy lines
I keep walking and walking and walking
and the wind is picking up
My chance of hope boost in when I saw a big old abandoned bridge
In a pitch-black tunnel under the bridge, I
huddled for warmness
rustling of cats in the wheely bins
the rain and the wind
In the silent gloom,
I'm still up and awake, tucked away in the little corner
My face lit with a fire light
with the little fire that I made
sit in there
dreaming how it feels like to have a home
a bunch of food to eat
a warm cosy snuggly house
a treasure to live
About the Creator
Roy Flores
Writing has always be a part of my life.It Is a dream,my passion and my hobby that become a reality.
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