Writing Type: Poem
To the desperate and homeless who wander streets that look all the same in search of food and kindness, who knows where lies the blame?
A shopping cart is your closet; a bridge, on cardboard is where you sleep
Daytime is when you panhandle; nighttime is when you weep.
You feel the fist of government kindness,
“Do not park yourself near here!” for you need a shave and shower and our citizens feel much fear.
Do not bother the suits that walk near you for they really don’t see you at all.
Pull yourself up by your bootstraps,
“Stay-the-heck-away” from all our malls.
You once were someone’s friend and neighbor before you had holes in your shoes.
A mirror no longer knows you, so you escape alone in booze.
I remember the first time I met you; dog tags slipped from your torn shirt.
Once you served your country in wartime; now it fails your needs and hurt.
So your country doesn’t know you now after you served its time of need, but let them know what bridge you’re near in case they need you again to bleed!