The homeless cannot sleep on
winter’s cold nights, they gather
around a burning barrel, men,
women and children, forgotten,
shattered and despised; in the
distance a baby cries. Begging
for food, living on the streets, no
jobs to be found, families no longer
sound. Government talks end up
in contradictions, poverty is the
prediction. The spirit freezes,
fruit of labors rot, life squeezes and
struggles persist, bad luck smothering
heart and soul, hope ceases to exist.
Shifting winds turn into storms, will
the world grow wiser, or will it be
humbled and beaten back into servility?
Trust departed, a cardboard box in the
streets is where the homeless make their
beds, hope disappears and the future to
the homeless is dead.