Homeless Poem by Monique Kardashian

I sit there on the filthy floor,
With my dog far too poor and hungry to bark.
Watching common people’s feet walk by.
I gaze up and sigh.
I sit there on the corner of a noisy street, yet I hear a sound.
I know there is hope to be found.
So I hold up my cup up high.
I hold it up as high as I can.
With my inner most security.
Waiting for just a cent to be thrown into it.
Cold, misty winter air swoops my knotted hair.
I place the cup on my lap; dare myself to peer in it.
I glance into the cup, not even a cent.
I give up.
I come to a conclusion that I can never defeat this illusion of the world.
So I remain there and weep in sorrow.
Waiting for tomorrow.
My heart as empty as the cup.
What has this gloomy world become?
All of these ignorant people can’t even spare a supporting second of their cherished time.
When I need someone to love, nobody bothers or cares.
When I cry for help, nobody listens.
When I have something to say, nobody listens
No body listens - to the homeless.