Who Am I.

February 4, 2011
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You don’t know what it’s like, to live in a world filled with no hope, but despair.
All the people walk by, they’re stopping to stare.

You don’t know what it’s like, when a box is your home.
Wandering from city to place, afraid and alone.

You don’t know what it’s like, to feel the thrashing of hail when it’s cold.
Knowing you have no place to hide from it, nowhere to go.

You don’t know what it’s like, not to shower in weeks.
Soul and body full of dirt, but I long to be clean.

As you pass me by, I beg for some of your food.
You don’t know what it’s like, when stale bread tastes this good.

You don’t know what its like, to watch the nations flag fly before me.
Then to wonder, is this what it’s really like to be free?

I’m trapped like a child, with the soul of a man.
You all think I’m pathetic, even scared to shake my hand.

So come! Share a story with me.
We can chat for sometime, maybe stay for some tea?

This is the age of revival, oh sweet sorrow, be gone!
Till the days when the rich, and the poor, are like one.

I am not a leper! Despite what you’re believing.
My clothes and my body are all quite deceiving.

Now you see what it’s like, to be part of the world I live in.
See the problems I face, the choices I’m given.

I’m here in this world; the way God let me be.
Although I don’t look like a someone, that someone is me.

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