~Homeless in homelands~For Poets of Blood!
~Homeless in homelands~
What of the homeless man?
Will he ever be offered a hand?
Today so many seem to suffer,
As I add myself to the list,
Of forgotten wonders.
The days seem like they,
Never will pass,
As only water sits now,
In my almost empty glass.
Work is a thought of long lost days,
I need to find some to,
lift this unbearable haze.
Its hard to find your way,
One nothing new always,
Gets in the way.
Time to start a new flow,
As I try to climb from this deep hole.
I am sick and tired of being down,
And I don’t much feel like being a clown.
The waters are no longer peaceful and calm,
As I feel myself start to ride the rapids down.
I use to cherish every minute of my life,
But now it all seems to be so strife.
All I ask for is a chance,
To find myself again in the dance!
Inkmaster
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