When The Streets Are Home

streets are home

When the streets are home,
you have no bed, you have no pillow.
When the streets are home,
you cry along with the weeping willow.

When the streets are home,
dawn or dusk; there is no difference.
When the streets are home,
you pray for deliverance.

When the streets are home,
you’re not alive; you’re dead inside.
When the streets are home,
from prying eyes, you cannot hide.

When the streets are home,
your every fear must be faced.
When the streets are home,
who you were has been erased.

When the streets are home,
you fight to survive each and every day.
When the streets are home,
everywhere you go, you’re turned away.

When the streets are home,
you’re invisible, unloved and unknown.
When the streets are home,
you’re surrounded and yet, so alone.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2014 Shelby I. Courtland

5 thoughts on “When The Streets Are Home

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