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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1739557
The desolation of homelessness.
Standalone

They stand, hooded,cold.
Eyes focussed upon uneven ground.
Shuffling their feet,
easing the weight they bear.
Changing from one aching limb to the other.
Yearning for redemption from their plight.

We walk, resolute,rushing.
Forward on our journey through jostling crowds.
Seeing yet choosing not to see,
the hooded,cold figures as they stand.
Eyes downcast, watching the uneven ground.

They stand, silent, listening.
Hearing whispers of disdain from those who pass,
challenging their right to be here.
Hurling words of ridicule and then,
leaving them saddened and alone.

We walk, grumbling, whispering.
Asking why they should be here?
As we hurtle on our way flinging abuse.
Ignoring their pleas and then,
leaving them saddened and alone.

They stand, disheartened, trembling.
Feeling the heat of tears unshed.
Battling the urge to flee from people who,
click their tongues, tut in disgust and
think only of themselves.

We walk, proud, unyielding.
Ignorant of causing hurt and being unjust,
to those who strive to be like us.
As we click our tongues and
think only of ourselves.

They stand, stalwart, tall.
determined to succeed in their quest,
to discover self-esteem.
Akin to all who tut-tut and sneer.
At those who standalone.
Hooded, cold, homeless.
© Copyright 2011 Poppy Moss (popwych at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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