By Anne Nicolson
I am a human whose life has gone terribly wrong,
I have no choice but to sit outside all day long, Everything I own I carry with me in bags, Having to protect my stuff all the time really is a drag, I have nowhere to go, come rain or shine,
I have no house that I can call mine.
Every day I wonder the streets with no way to fill my time,
So I try and escape from this hell with any means that I can find,
I try and block out my unbearable boredom with alcohol and drugs, You call me “spice head” and “druggie” – I feel those judgemental shrugs, But, I would challenge anybody to have to live a life like this,
Without the comfort blanket of being drugged up or pissed.
On the pity of strangers I have to rely,
And as they throw down their pennies I sit there and wonder why, The way that I have ended up is through no fault of my own,
My fate is down to the luck of the draw, and that alone,
I see those censorious looks – you all think that you’re better than me, But, the truth of the matter is, I’ve just been extremely unlucky.
And when the time comes for me to finally get some rest,
In a doorway or on a bench, wherever I feel safest is best,
But, with the deafening noises all around, coupled with the cold, hard ground, The luxury of sleeping comfortably is something that I’ve never found,
I sleep with one eye open as I fear for my worldly possessions, as well as my life,
I fear abuse from late night drinkers who could steal from me or threaten me with a knife.
And, as the day begins again, I sit and wonder about this life – this so-called precious gift, I have no purpose here, my existence is pointless – if I had a receipt, I’d return it,
I watch again all the passers by who think they somehow deserve everything they have, My mind is exhausted from my reality and I feel like I’m going mad,
So next time you look down on me and think I’ve chosen this – that’s just not true, I’ve just not been lucky, this could happen to anybody, I was forced into this world too.
I am a human, I am just like you.