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Forced to leave your home The home you knew as your own Changes how you look at your new place Never to truly call it your home Homes aren't permanent to you Always changing addresses
Money is given not earned, Dumpsters serve as restaurants, Fountains as bathtubs, Shoes are their tires, Makeshift shelters as home, No family but fellow brethren, And no dept because most already paid.
Yesterday, I awoke, I opened my eyes to a stranger, a poke. A stranger was tapping me, I stood up He sat down with the morning news and a coffee cup.
my brain smokes and i ride the wind or drift by the galaxy past oblivion the old man sits there in a way hes always been today i think
Don’t think too much About forbidden touch Or legal abuse of such Little creatures like dairy cows and fabric workers. Don’t feel too much. The homeless man with his crutch
“I fought in Vietnam. Watched my men lay down their guns. Watched the life of my old buddy, Red, drain from his eyes. I heard the cries of a widowed wife, as I told her, her husband died.
Yesterday on the subway We sat Discussing politics or gossip When a blind beggar spoke. Stabbed in the eye and homeless He blessed the crowd for their generosity Which had yet to be proven
Just eighteen, oh so young, but all bulged up. Her mom will slap her, her dad will kill her. Her boyfriend will not even see her. She looks at the pile of books and articles on her desk, so messed up like her life.