A Tired Soul's Plea

August 5, 2011
By BBuller GOLD, Flin Flon, Other
BBuller GOLD, Flin Flon, Other
15 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Lost in the monotony of my days, the sirens break the chains
They have held me in this great divide; I’ve been thrown away…

Through busy city streets we wander north and south
Waiting for the day, when someone pulls us out.
We are the nameless. We are not known.

We have somewhere to place our heads, and rest out tired soles
We fall asleep with jackets torn, but we do not have a home.

We are not even people to the human mind
Non-existent to the heart, invisible to the eye.

We have made our past mistakes, we know this rest assured
We carve our path from stone, to an anchor we are moored.

We are the ghosts of a living world, avoided like the plague
Yet we breathe the same air as you, under a sky so grey.

Each one of us is an open book, stories etched into our bones
But no one shall hear our plea, however much we drone.
We are the nameless. We are unknown.

Some could find it sad, how we live from day to day,
I just call it living, when we can only pray.

The author's comments:
What I imagine it would be like to be homeless.

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