Poor Old Lady

Im stressed

Im depressed

Trying to get more rest

I have no where to go

as the birds fly to their nest

Tired of wearing the same clothes

Im all dirty and lazy

knowing that im a poor old lady

Wonder if people think im crazy

Im living through the struggle

as I tend to figure out this hard puzzle 

I lay on hard ground

I have nothing but this bag 

Picking up this cup I found

I ask myself "Do I belong here"?

as I walk and wipe my tears

Dear lord can ya hear me

or is it cause they dont care for me

Screaming at the top of my lungs

but what I fear is drugs and guns

I need a place to stay

as I watch the birds fly away.