The Homeless Nomad

I would like to clarify that my writing is intended to convey the utmost respect for all homeless individuals who regrettably do not receive the level of recognition and treatment they rightfully deserve from our society.

In the city streets I roam,
My home a tattered coat alone.
A nomad lost in concrete plains,
With empty pockets and no gains.

My bed a bench, my pillow stone,
A cardboard box, my only throne.
The rain, the wind, the cold, the heat,
Are all I have, a fate concrete.

The passersby, they turn their head,
Ignoring me, their guilt well-fed.
They don’t know the pain I bear,
The hunger, thirst, and despair.

I dream of warmth, of shelter, peace,
Of a life where my sorrows cease.
But every day, my hope recedes,
As the city grinds and the hunger feeds.

But still, I cling to my humanity,
To my dignity, my sanity.
For I am more than what they see,
A human soul, just like thee.

So if you see me in your street,
Do not ignore, do not retreat.
For a smile, a word, a small act,
Can give me hope, and bring me back.