This is of an experience, of time in lost, a time of fear, a time homeless
I wake to the sound of a world going by,
My body hurts with the cold hunger raging in my skin,
(so where to go for food or is a hit for the day to see me through the pain)
Skin cold and pale, mouth dry, cloths damp from the rain by night,
People walk by and turn away with nothing to say,
For in their eye you do not existed, you are but a stain on the floor,
You get up and everything hurts, feels like death has come calling,
For how can you alive, (I wish I were died) then the feeling for death would be real, too painful to move, to walk, to feel, so you cover up.
So cold so hungry so fucked up,
So am I still alive another day,
For with death you play, hoping, praying that you don’t awake to hell again.
Mike Baker (Author)