Why should I live?What to this world
could I give?Why did I end up here on
the streets in a cardboard box?
I'm out in the cold,some of the food
I eat has mold and I am getting old
too soon.
Everyday is a struggle to find a new
place to sleep and to hope someone
want piss in my face while I sleep
out here on the streets.
My clothes are your old rags thatI
keep in plastic bags,so that they can
stay dry when it rains.It is tough out
here on the streets.
People always pass me by,they don't
hear me when I cry out to them for help
or a place to sleep.
I am not a pice of trash,so to me don't
be so rash to call me useless,lazy or
stupid.For once I was just like you.
So when you see me out on the streets
and you go to turn your head,don't worry
if I am alive or dead because out here
on must keep his head to survive out here
on the streets.
All I can say to you,is be glad of what
you have and don't be so quick to judge,
for if one thing I have learned that can
always be true,this too could happen to
you.
For you could end up homeless out here
on the streets.