Monday, 9 January 2012
Sleeping out, without a doubt,
On the streets, without knout.
Except for words, I put about,
That can be hard to get right out.
As I try, to stay dry,
Out here now, I pray, I cry.
Stop it now, its no lie,
Whys this happening, why oh why.
Keeping clean, if you know what I mean,
Of the drugs, without a bean.
To get a place, to stay clean,
Now is hard, I know, I've been.
While this time round, upon the ground,
I write and write, for a few pounds.
Which is good, so I have found?
Now maybe I'll make it, won't that be sound.
By Dr Geebers