Home At Last
The air is cold
walking on the streets alone
without my love
without a home
no one knows
where I'm going
I never stop
I walk and roam
the ones with money
look upon me
as if I was another race
shame is showing
when they've past
on my face
I jump from high
and I am falling fast
the air is cold
the air is loud
my body hits
without a sound
Copyright © Bias Fields | Year Posted 2011
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