life

Look here, see.
This sign says change,
or hope, but frick man,
I'm standing cold,
no cash of my own,
just this soup kitchen
that makes me listen
to sermons about a life
I may be missing,
what God wants of me,
well where the hell is he?

Look here, man,
my shoes' soles show
more sock and toes and
i'm feeling more and more cold,
and as I grow older,
I'm finding more and more
charity fades
and the friendly faces
they've been replacing
with scrutiny, as if
I was doing this to me,
as if I wanted tosleep
in a tent beneathe the trees,
as if if I followed God I'd see
that there's a bed for me,
well, I tried that.
and I think I have to die before He
relieves me.

Well, maybe that's okay.

Just believe me,
I believe, but still
I live on the frickin' street,
but see, it's not just me,
there's people who need to feel free,
there's people who need to see,
need to breathe again,
deeply,
wholly,
completely absorbing everything,
and knowing that this shit life
if temporary
fleeting,
soon to be but a memory and
treasures in heaven
are awaiting despite the things,
the sickness,
the drugs
the choices,
the life,
that put me on the street,
it put me on my knees.


I hope to help that story form.