A Homeless Perspective

I wasn’t always this way.

I was once like you, driving my car and shopping for food.

I don’t blame you for walking by, I can’t even blame you for avoiding my eyes.

I would do the same.

I stand on this corner holding my sign, it reads: “No food, please help.”

But how can you believe me?

Many of my “peers” have drugged your mind.

You look at me and think, “You just want wine. Drugs and alcohol subdue the pain, these are the reasons you are now this way.”

Numbing the pain doesn’t make the reality go away.

I have no one, I have nothing.

I have very little hope in anything, anymore.

My days are long in this hot sun, my nights  spent curled up on my cement bed.

I don’t blame you for walking a little faster, I can’t blame you for holding your children a little tighter.

I wish someone loved me the way I love my cardboard sign.

It is the only possession that is strictly mine.

Though I must confess, I found it here.

I found it on this corner with no one near.

As I shake, I hold the sign.

I hang my head low and slowly go.

I have more freedom than any of you.

I have no bills and I have no dues.

I don’t have to stress about fixing my car, I don’t have to worry about getting home from the bar.

I owe you nothing, just as you owe me nothing.

Just keep walking.

Just keep walking.

 

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