Being Homeless

(Written for the Being Homeless contest) I am homeless. Not a criminal, not crazy, not rich. Emotional pain got the best of me, loved ones turned their backs. I tried to fly and fell. I tried to speak and couldn’t find the words. I tried to overcome the fear and it consumed me. I tried to succeed and I failed, and failed again. I was misunderstood, so I ran and I ran. My pain got the best of me. The streets became my home. Where people are not close, just strangers at a distance. Now I have very little to lose. Maybe this is where I need to be. I don't know how to start over from nothing, not yet anyway. The pain got the best of me. This pain is worse than the alley. Maybe, I will gain my courage alone in the night, under the bridge. Maybe, I will survive enough cold, nasty looks and loneliness, Strength and faith will return enough for a new beginning. Maybe one day even a warm loving embrace that is real. I dream of standing on top of the bridge waving and watching This way of life float away, down the river, one day, some day.