A Poem By
By Christopher Osgood
Concrete and steel surround the inner sanctum
Flies, rats, maggots…
A cardboard shelter is the only thing between
Death and breath
To eat your last meal of
A rat sniffing for your last breath
Out of misery
Out of site
The vapor lingers and rises from
A toe tag that names yet another
You finally have a name…..
You have been reborn….
Into a Society that smiles down on you
Under six feet of gratitude
You mean homeless shelters aren't mansions? JK
I like your unflinching attitude towards realities of life for many Americans. Homeless in other countries ase a little better supported, as I understand it. They have a community of like people who actually help each other out. It's part of their culture.
But you never hear about this in the States (unless it's PBS).
Phil Collins sang another day for you and me in Paradise (a home).
Difficult subject matter that you did well in describing.