Posted in Poetry

Homeless by L. M. Montes

Pants, hung low,
Gray, dusty, old hair, in a frizz,
Faded drooping, sunken blue eyes,
A frown so downward cast,
Where is my home?
I do not know,
I do not care,
I am so alone.
But do I care?
I do not know,
Here in my cardboard box
I sit in drunken moan.
My tears, stain my face,
People look at me in disgrace.
Sadness, consumes me,
Surrounds me, covers me.
Slowly, I look up,
I see the riches of allies,
The food of homeless kings,
The rot of days gone by,
Dwelling close,
The stench so wry.
What do I do?
I do not know,
I do not care,
I am so alone.
But do I care?
I do not know,
Here in my card board box
My mind, it runs to go.

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