Thursday, 28 November 2013


Another morning comes
And I am woken by the shuffling of feet and the hustle and bustle of cars
The endless hooting tears at my ears until
I realize that today will be no different from yesterday.
I wake up to the same madness each morn.
As  if I am pleading to exist
Yet I curse that very existence.
You on the other hand wish my life away.
The constant relentless stares remind me that I am a vermin.
A pest hoping that people will glance at and see
But you look and see through me.
You behave as though I am infested
Infested with a gruesome spirit of poverty and filth
Filling the streets with a slow, inviting, torturous air whose scent is more bitter than gile.
For me,
All I can reminisce on is death.
I yearn for that final grip that will put an end to my pain.
The pain is more than physical.
It is the constant reminder that I am less valued than the crawling creatures.
You don't even feel I deserve the two shillings change you get from the supermarket.
And when it lands in my hands,
It is the guilt and pity you feel from a Sunday preaching.
You say I should get a job.
If child labour is not good enough for your child,
Does it make it right for me in my circumstance?
Yes, beggars cannot be choosers
But do you think I chose my predicament?
The little hope I had left me one slow night
When I almost came face to face to death
But sadly even death doesn't want me
So I am left to wander the streets.
You will always see me
You will always ignore me
But I will never stop wishing that I was in your shoes.

Yours truly,
The street urchin....