Homeless
'Homeless' by Peter Blaker
Somehow my life dropped me into a shop doorway,
the reek of stale urine, the sting of cold concrete.
Wrapped up in my quilt of shredded green nylon,
an old woollen blanket, a damp square of cardboard,
I sat and waited for the day to die slowly,
with a cup on the pavement to fill with your pity.
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