Desolate
My hands and feet are numb
for I am cold and I have no
home to give me warmth.
A home and warmth are two
things I search for that is why
people call me a bum.
I have not eaten but I have
prayed and my prayers have
not yet been answer for I have
not eaten in days.
So I'll just lay in my place of
sleep and pray ones more as I
search for warmth, for I have
found my home, The streets.
Copyright © The Poet 174 | Year Posted 2008
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