In The Eyes Of The Homeless

Passing through the streets, stepping over bodies. Bodies of the poor, the homless, the ones without. Without family to care for them, to comfort them and sheild from the pain. The pain from these streets. The streets long and hard and never forgiving.

Shall they look towards tomorrow, a day that may never come, a day not promise to us all; but with them on the streets. Man. Dare I say it's hard, moving from shelter to shelter, searching through trash cans and dumpters, I wonder how they got this way. How they became who they are today, who they have become; homeless. Family less, food less, without form. Each day searching, asking for change, holding up signs; will work for money.

When our president came to view, did they shout thinking maybe my luck will change? Maybe I'll be freed from these streets, from the mere sight of roughness. From the stares from people who never layed eyes on me before. Who never spoke of me, or care much about what i think or how i feel. When I ask for change they stare at me and pull their purse near their side; as if i will take what they have. I wonder do the say this. Do they feel this way of hurt and pain? Do they wonder what we think, or how we feel to see them this way. Thinking I wish I could save them all; giving them homes and jobs.

Someday I will, as my act to show that I care, to show not everyone walks pass the homeless with their nose in the air. To show I think of how they feel, how they think; where they will be tomorrow. Dare they reach for the stars and never look back. In the eyes of the home less, seeking for a place to go, to go and become better than who they are.