Cold and wet as I have been set in this one place for nearly a day. Watching adults pass and children play. Hunger in my belly, feet infected and smelly.
By night I am hidden by day I am I am forbidden. Lazy, ill. waste of space as everyone passes at a fair pace. But some stop and give money or food, others abuse and spit in your face.
I was once like you, before I lived on the street with a hole in my shoe. I was once a passer-by who never stopping to wonder why. Now I live from day to day for my misfortune I must pay. Constantly looking for a place to stay.
My drink helps me numb the pain so I don’t have to think again. It stops the hunger for most of the day and helps me to sleep where I lay hoping I will open my eyes on a new day.
So, move me on if you want so I don’t show on your doorstep but I will be there where ever you are sleeping on the pavement or in a car. Give me not money or food but give me a chance to live in your neighbourhood.
Rhythm of the Ink 