So poor I can’t even walk through the door

Head, held low

As I beg for enough change to rampage the 99 cent store

Got anymore?

Low class I’m a beggar, the weather is my umbrella

All day I watch as feet beat the pavement and wonder where the good old days went

So blind to the mind how can I be alive

Sit on the curb and observe as the tourists walk by

It’s real here!

Sleeping with an ear to the streets

No fortune cookie told me my destiny was to not eat

Caged like a bird I can’t leave this square

Knowing if I could fly there’s a world of opportunity out there

But I’m stuck

Like a fiend to the pipe

Sweat during the day just to keep warm at night

Stuck in the city that never sleeps

So to find peace I lay where I may

I’d pray, but I can’t find enough silence to string my thoughts together

Low class I’m a beggar, the weather is my umbrella

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Check out this poet on Facebook and Instagram @CPlaySBE