Homeless

the night air is cold but what else is new hopeless men gather much more than a few a long line is formed but no words are said looking to Hell for answers as they hang their heads what little they possess is taken no regard every face is tired some are even scarred scraps are served but to only one’s delight most forego the pity as they prepare for night eight somber men share one small room a stench marinated in collective gloom some find comfort and roar throughout the dark others toss and turn hoping sleep finds its mark as my eyes close their faces are all I can see am I looking at them or are they looking at me