Homeless it's a pang in your chest and a fear knowing you have nothing to call home at the young age of fourteen.
Nothing to have but the clothes on your back.
Nothing but the tears rolling down your cheek knowing your mother doesn't give a fuck about your were bouts.
Knowing she sent her friends instead of herself .
Knowing she doesn't care for you ,
only him and the drugs up her nose .
Homelessness is the panic in your chest.
Panic knowing you don't have anything
What if they come to get you
What if they find out.
They always find out don't they.
YOU ARE READING
the depths of my despair
PoetryYin & Yang . The good ,The bad. A balance between the two. This is the dark finding it's light through the depths of despair.
