Posted in Poetic Driblets

I Didn’t Choose The Street

  
Tossing and turning on my concrete bed that always leaves me with aches and pains.

I barely sleep, for I am ravaged by nights fury an unforgiving blanket of cold weather.

I awake filled with hope but to my dismay I’m greeted with looks of disgust.

Dressing my face in the appropriate expression I get ready for another day in this world where I have no one but myself to trust.

My stomach rumbles for I have been on a fast that’s not of my own choosing.

Unknown to me is my own complexion as it is hidden underneath layer upon layer of dirt and filth.

I’ve now grown numb to the stench I give off but I see, it makes some flinch as I approach.

I endlessly roam the streets wishing for the simplest things 

Something to drink

A meal 

A bed to sleep in

I’ve grown weary and I realize I can only but dream of these things.

There’s no point in hoping to leave the street when one can’t even read.

Everyday tears running down my face as I ask why me?

I’m angry and I hate the world.

A world that lies to itself that the good things in life are free.

I still pray for the lord to rescue me.

Though I’m being treated as if I woke up one day and chose to be on the street.

Tee

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Author:

Poet |Fiction Writer |Wannabe Comedian |Food lover |African |Zimbwabean

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