I Hate Being Homeless Poem by Cigar Aficionado

I Hate Being Homeless



Streets of forever humbles life
rare to bloom this flower.
Free fancy cloths from bodies
unable to wash unkind
in nakedness.
Skin brazened harsh cruel sun
must weep aid
withheld..
Empty roofs eyes to the sky can
hold the barren thought
reborn through birth.
Refeeding all rags tomorrows
wind blows clean.

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