Without Shelter

Homeless That’s what I am now after the war. I served this country and was informed Of how appreciated I was. When our mission was over and we came home, A lot of us realized there were no homes to come back to. We did leave the war, but the war never left us. God bless America The home of the free And those left on the corner who defended it. Homeless That’s what I became after my son died. I remember the day he died after all these years, And I remember the haze I was left in afterwards. After my life left empty, I filled it with bottles and pills. Neither of them cheap. I lost my house, I lost my humanity. But most importantly, I lost my son. Homeless Is the class I was born into. My mother tells me stories About the life she had before. She was married to a man, A man that soon left her For another woman. They took her home. Leaving her with a car, And a baby to provide for. Homeless Is what I became after I came out. Kicked out by the church, And turned away by my family. They said they’d love me, But only if I loved who they wanted, And not another man. Dear Heavenly Father, I ask thee why I am not loved, I ask in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen. Homeless That’s what I was after you left. You let me get beat, And you were fine neglecting me. Everything hurt, But their beatings never hurt, As much as how little you loved me. I’m glad you’re not here, A home with you was hell. I hope you’re doing well mother. Homeless That’s what my father chose to be, After we were born, And he was held responsible. He wasn’t there as I grew up, But I found him years later, And tried to give him a home. He took some help, But didn’t stay, Saying this life wasn’t his. Homeless