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My Homeless Bed

Too afraid to speak, God forbid I reek the negativity it seeks will have me standing on my feet once again.
The stares don’t hurt anymore, the hunger stabs a thousand times worse.
I can’t sleep without dreaming of never happenings like a day without hunger, a day without looking disgraceful, just a day where I can make eye contact in peace and stare back confidently.
The persistent desire to shut my eyes and free my mind into that world of the impossible patronizes me.
My every moment awake is mythological evidence that my pure existence on earth is the true definition of a hellish nightmare.
I say hellish because I’ll give actual hell more credit than this.

My Homeless Bed.

My Homeless Bed

MissCriti

Bronx, United States

  • Artist
    Notes
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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