I'm tight.
But that's not the reason.
Used to live
In Harrow
West London
Always
This Beggar There
sitting outside
the local
Tesco.
I used to give him
A quid every now and again
But
Somehow
One day
In Wembley
I saw him dressed well
Gold chains
Looking like a rapper.
Out with his girlfriend
Discussing
Whether or not
To get
A Taxi.
It turned out
The only beggar
I ever gave money to
was
a fraud.
And he had the nerve
Right there and then
To ask me
If I had
Any spare change.
He was lucky I wasn't drunk.
I would have choked him
And mugged him.
You don't fake something like that
That's just
Low.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem