Every day I struggle living in this city,
I'm a homeless man trying to make it.
People walk by me and just stare,
Because I have decent clothing on and don't look poor.
I'm sorry I don't look dirty with ripped up clothes,
I didn't know that was the requirements to be considered “homeless.”
I'm sitting here writing this in cold weather as my hands freeze,
Trying to keep warm and keep my fingers moving with my thoughts.
I have to express myself in some sort of way,
That's what my therapist used to tell me.
I haven't seen her in months, I miss her,
She has helped me get through a lot of things.
Obviously I don't have the money to see her now,
As I'm just trying to survive day to day.
Any change helps me to get some food,
Most days are snacks just to keep me full.
I'm lucky if I get a full meal at least 3 days a week,
I have a store owner who gives me some leftover food when he closes.
I feel bad for bothering him a lot of days,
He rides around the neighborhood trying to find me sometimes.
I have to go to different places to sleep every night,
With so many loitering and trespassing signs around I don't want the cops to arrest me.
Then again being in a police station and a jail cell would be warmth,
But I'm working on finding a way out of this.
It's messed up how people don't show empathy or sympathy in this world,
Like I miraculously decided to just be homeless.
I just randomly woke up and went out to the streets,
And I decided to hustle and try to survive in this cold world.
Cold world full of mean people and it’s cold outside right now,
Shelters are jam packed and some nights I can get a cot to sleep on.
Not me, I'll take whatever I can get to be honest.
A lot of nights I cry and shed tears of sadness and sorrow,
Losing my wife to cancer and my company shutting down killed me.
We never had kids, but we had a great life but my life savings is gone,
Trying to survive paying bills, rent, I eventually went broke.
Evicted from my home and my family refused to help or take me in,
I now pull a suitcase around with whatever clothes I have.
In my 50s, companies don't want no old man working for them,
They probably think I want all of this money to work.
I'm just trying to survive and get a place to live,
But rent is ridiculously high and it's too much to think about.
So imagine what I'm thinking in my head right now,
I'm thankful I have that store owner who lets me wash in his bathroom.
When he closes his store for the night, I go wash up and get a warm meal,
He tells me to come by and work for him some days.
Most people don't even have some of the things I have,
I'm thankful for whatever I can get at this point.
He’s struggling financially with his store and I feel for him,
This economy is no joke and he told me his rent went up.
It's been months since I felt the hot water of a shower hit my skin,
Oh how I'd kill just to sit in a bathtub and soak my aching bones.
Sleeping on hard floors has caused chronic back pain,
My store owner friend slides me Tylenol after dinner to alleviate the pain.
Depression is kicking in on me with another cold night upon me,
Trying to not think of the cold as my jacket keeps me warm.
Time to go into my spot in a dark alley where I'm unnoticed,
Cuddle up under a dark space and try to get some shut eye.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish