He has one shoelace.
His teachers two faced,
Too concerned,
Too unaware,
Too busy-
blank fools stare.
It's not their fault that when they ask him if he's okay the response is always "yes"
Greasy hair,
Worn soles,
Everybody notices his pants.
The only pair he owns.
Welfare,
Food Stamps,
Refusing to walk in the grocery store with mom,
She's got Wic checks in her hands and the cashier has the same look in his eyes.
Not by surprise but by design.
It's not a secret this is pitiful.
He's less embarrassed when his friends have holes in their drywall too.
If it weren't for this,
It'd be a shelter.
Where addicts breed,
cockroaches feed,
The world in shades of disarray-
So normalized they make a rainbow.
You can take him out of the shelter,
But there is where his dreams died.
We are all victims here,
left in conscious vacancy.
