Strangers trampling through my space
Old newspaper blankets, makeshift build
Rain within my old shoes fills
Beneath the arches
Doorway home
Strength escaping, still I roam
Turning to the cider warm
Alcoholic stupor
Feel no harm
Fingers dirty, ink stained nails
Dirty clothes
My homeless trail
See these eyes that sink and fade
Pallor of an early grave
Concludes the day, they'll read with dread
My Headline
Another homeless dead
@ Delaproser
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