When Hate Erupts
Eyelids, pierced by splinters of light;
I rub my eyes as I awake.
And while my bedroll kept me warm,
I am hungry, and my bones ache.
Belongings few; I fear their loss,
for they are what keep me alive.
Though they don't get lighter with age;
I may not thrive, but I survive.
A pair of doves welcomes the sun,
dispelling the shadows of night.
And I start my day panhandling
while trying to keep out of sight.
Suddenly, I hear a loud laugh,
with a jeering edge to its pitch.
And some teenagers start running,
being homeless, makes me their .
A barrage of fists is let loose:
pain radiates with each impact.
And my nose, broken and bleeding,
leaves me mostly still intact.
Wrong place to be when hate erupts,
for the anger of youth runs deep.
And although time will help me heal,
I have no more tears left to weep.
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