SON OF A BEGGER MAN

I am the son of a begger man, on a broken street of pain,
I have no sense of comfort, I dont even have a name.
Fresh food it is my fiction; soft sheets my wildest dreams,
I live a life of lonliness, amidst rats and mad mans screams.

I knew not of my mother, but my father he taught me well,
he taught me how to steal and beg, but there’s little more of him to tell.
Some people show me pity, but most of all disgust,
and everytime I enter their space i’m viewed with a lack of trust.

The only thing I own are these clothes upon my back,
and the only life I see ahead is this lonely dead end track.
But in this life of lonliness, I still do think and listen and learn,
and I still keep hope and longing, that my way may one day turn.

SON OF A BEGGER MAN

francis  carter

Joined November 2009

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