Down and out with my begging bowl

I'm not sure, I can take much more,

Living my life I'm not,

Things started out oh so promising,

Then I began to rot.

 

Tiredness and doubt fill my mind,

Even when there is so much to do.

Coupled heartache of a breaking kind,

Feels like I'm in a right stew.

 

I see the streets,

Fill up with people without a home.

As crazy  as it sounds, and it is skew whiff,

There's a hint of jealousy in my bones.

 

At least these poor wretched souls don't resist,

The madness that persists,

They show their sorrows,

No diginity is lacking for all to see.

 

I have respect for these fellows,

They have a hardened resolve I can not match.

To sleep in daylight, full on in public,

Not show a slight flinch.

 

To say these are survivors

Post-war kind,

Wonder if,

Winston would agree.

 

I bet they have been in enough wars to qualify,

As front line pedigree,

Day in day out they stick their trenches,

Hoping the day will bring them some peace.

 

I wish I had the same fortitude,

To see me through my own melancholy,

I can count the days, months and years,

When I really don't give a shit.

 

Oh why has life turn out this way,

I am unable to see fit.

Stuck in the headlights for 25 years, 

Some kind of incredulity.

 

Yet to say I'm mad,

Going round the twist,  Now ok with me.

To escape from this hell, to stop the pain, I know what I must do.

 

To end it all,

In a way that I want,

My choice,

My own free will too.

 

It defeats the demons

Keeps me in control,

At least I can have this final step,

Till.........

 

To step out the way, Of lifes encounters, 

Is very real this way.

Or perhaps I'll join my brothers in arms,

By sleeping on the streets.

 

Laying on a cardboard,

Mind adrift, 

I could ,

Easily become accostummed too.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world

Comments

20kidtopia

wow that is deep

WestLondonMan

Very deep, but good to express and helps clear the soul. 

Thank you for commenting. 

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