Do the Homeless Dream? By Jasen Sousa
Do the Homeless Dream?
These are not your dreams.
Bag he sleeps in.
Cold air creeps in.
Young kids beat him.
A world defeats him.
Rain seeps in.
Every day nothingness greets him.
When will it be time to eat again?
These are not your dreams.
Bench now his bed.
A stench from long hair that hangs from his head.
Conditions are no longer livable.
People walk by, invisible.
Look at him lying there!
Look at him crying there!
Look at him dying there!
These are not your dreams.
All day staying there.
Praying there.
Decaying there.
Dreams inside a blind mind.
On a homeless person’s wrists there is no knowledge of time.
These are not your dreams.
Taken From
A Mosaic of My Mind By Jasen Sousa (Written at age 24)
©
These are not your dreams.
Bag he sleeps in.
Cold air creeps in.
Young kids beat him.
A world defeats him.
Rain seeps in.
Every day nothingness greets him.
When will it be time to eat again?
These are not your dreams.
Bench now his bed.
A stench from long hair that hangs from his head.
Conditions are no longer livable.
People walk by, invisible.
Look at him lying there!
Look at him crying there!
Look at him dying there!
These are not your dreams.
All day staying there.
Praying there.
Decaying there.
Dreams inside a blind mind.
On a homeless person’s wrists there is no knowledge of time.
These are not your dreams.
Taken From
A Mosaic of My Mind By Jasen Sousa (Written at age 24)
©