Homeless Poem by Gordon D Wilkinson

Sitting here at the sidewalk of life
Deep in my own futility and strife
Funny watching the world pass me by
Would they even stop if I cry?
Caught up in worlds of their own
Talking as they pass, not to me, but a cell phone
Some ready to help the less fortunate with the price of a drink
However, do they stop for a second and think
No one really pays attention to me, bottom of the pile you see
The bottom of the barrel a pungent odour, Me
My only companions, lice in my hair
Where they live, they do not care
My constant companion hunger sits about inside
In the state I am in, I have nothing, not even pride
Spending night after night, with cardboard I fight
The cold and rain, legs aching in pain, stomach tight
Forsaken and depressed, all hope gone
Day after day grief and despair, this is so wrong
What a wonderful world we live in, a chasm
Forgive me for my bitterness and sarcasm
Reality of it all is being homeless is hell





**Just a quick thought on this subject we all are just a heartbeat away from this life in the present economic state