Homeless and alone – agonisingly so – with no place to go, not so much as a shoebox to call your own, passersby tsk oh so heavily but forever unwilling to lend you an ear, reckon upon you having sold your soul to the devil
A shovel of shit rains down, self-inflicted, drug addiction takes hold, setting a most unadmirable mould
“One more hit… and that will be it!”
Trying atrociously hard to turn that choppy tide, no more hiding it out, rather unashamedly go as far as to give a distant family member a shout
When you’re down and out it’s never easy, far from it, a constant battle with floundering wits, caught in the darkening pits of depression
Suggestions here and there of no real use, in all likelihood you will come back at the messenger with unimaginable torrent of abuse
While our politicians canvass door to door, some of you slumber between them
Sleeping bags heaped upon the floor – what will undoubtedly be a father, a brother, a precious child’s who has lost their mother
Signs in hand that tell all too well of our times – downtrodden, those unforgivably forgotten
A soup kitchen that can scratch an itch or two, but for just how long?
Where did it all go wrong?!