smell of beef pie still warm
i reach my coins to count
unlucky i don't have enough
i swallowed and bit my lips
soup i welcome i can afford
tricking my senses to a food
cold fabrics around my body
dirt makes it a little bit heavy
i couldn't smell i'm use to it
one lady bump into me & stare
she looks into my eyes with fear
she could be watching over there
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem