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To a Homeless Person

I am a ghost among the crowd
Between the living and the dead,
As a shadow or passing cloud
I drift without a home or bed.

The days are long, the night's are cold,
A cigarette's my only friend,
My face is worn, my marrow's old,
Resigned to wounds time cannot mend.

From bin to bin I roam each day
On my unconsecrated feet,
I save what others throw away,
For scraps with vermin I compete.

An exile of society,
With neither dignity nor care,
Whisky is my sobriety,
What little's left I'll gladly share.

For long departed from this earth
Am I, and from my fellow man,
An animal of single birth,
Do I survive, as best I can.

Submitted: Thursday, February 21, 2013
Edited: Friday, February 22, 2013

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