by Marsha Marie
I came home thinking it was the right thing to do.
But lost and outcast, I try to fit in.
This is not my home anymore.
I am homeless, with a roof over my head.
No love, no friends, no way to save.
The past are but pictures in my head and heart.
Memories of dreams come true, will this illusion end?
Will I ever have my life? Someone who cares?
When I die, will only my children morn?
Like a bird in the heat looking for refuge, a morsel, I walk the streets of my childhood.
Torn between two worlds.
Looking for solace.
Envious of those around me with lavish homes and travels,
I wonder--- are they really happy? or is it just an illusion too?
Satisfied today--hungry again tomorrow. Marching in step with the masses.
Government control--dictating our likes and fears........Aren't we all, just Homeless with roofs over our heads?