Seven days every week
I sleep on the streets
The ground is my comfort
my dreams are out of reach
Seven days every week
I beg on the streets
The pleas are ignored
my sign is destroyed
Seven days every week
I eat on the streets
The trash is my fridge
my weight is not important
Seven days every week
I die on the streets
The bench is my coffin
my life is forgotten.
- n.s.
A/N
Okay, I'll get started on the suggested poem topics this weekend. I've been SUPER busy with school and stuff. I got to see my nephew, Clayton (he's three), today!
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A Glimpse Into My Thoughts
Poesía// sometimes I'm scared to let my mind wander but then I remember that my world can't run without it's creator // ________________________________ Do not steal my poems. If you want to use my poem in your book or as a quote, just ask me first and gi...
