I saw his hard-sore features
His head hanging downwards
Staring at a paper cup filled with silver paint
crying his beggars-blues, to hide his hunger pains

I had a couple coppers in my pocket
to offer him
but, really…
that wouldn’t stop him suffering

And it’s
funny, when I was younger,
I told myself “I’d change the world”
I grew old and thought
“i should change myself”
and now.
I’ve changed my mind

because… pocket change isn’t much

You see! the problem with this world
Is there’s too many…problems
and a heap of heroes like me
with a conscience
that “walk on don’t stop don’t look don’t feel”
too many wishful thinkers still pretending to care
too many eyes that sympathise and carry on

my boys used to laugh at the poetry sh*t
saying “Free-dom— seems dumb, because we’re all doomed”
and naked truths are more nude than ever,
but i still believe so

I told the beggar,
“I know you can’t live life with My ‘only ifs’,

So I will stand for you
and
I will march for you

he looked back at me and told Me
“sit”

Homeless in Hackney

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