Homeless
by
Sarah Brady

He stood
Jingling only his sanity
In a Styrofoam cup
As years of bad decisions
Cross over his face
His coat
Worn upon his back
Stained with deceptions
Ripped with insanity
And wet with hysteria
But actually
His soul is
A Pandora’s box
Lit with hope
Beneath the skin

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Poem Copyright © 2004 by Sarah Brady

 

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