Big Issue

Here once again he pesters me, steps into my world where I’m set fair, imposed upon by his misfortune, extravagance forced to regret. He always seems to be around, whichever street or square I walk jabbering loudly in my ear, though I make clear don’t wish to talk. Is his the filthy blanket hid amongst the bushes in the park ?, those kids have used it for a toilet, soaked it in their nasty lark. The little money that he gets who knows if it is wisely spent, he may well blow it all on drugs, he’s on the streets for owing rent. Most likely he's a total waster blaming some infirmity, claimes his autism confuses, has since over fosterer's knee. His bedding's now so badly soiled I wonder where he will sleep tonight, not of course that it's my problem, sure someone else will see him right, Much better purchase his “Big Issue”,then go home with conscience clean, as statistics clearly show we’re wealthier than we’ve ever been !