Graffiti cover the dusky walls , ceiling dripping from the rain , a home not yet loved only by the rodents hidden beneath the broken draws . I hide in the corner silent without a sound. Huddled like the screwed up newspaper listening to the howls by the hounds.
Early morning shadows surround as I walk, hushed voices gather as those around me talk, pockets bare and stomach rumbling , it's time to start rummaging.
Still more miles to go I keep jogging on, not knowing where my home will be when I arrive, I aim towards the ocean hoping one day I can see the tide.
The past is now far behind, I no longer feel like I'm running all the time, footsteps behind me is no longer my fear, I no longer walk until the moon light appear , I no longer feel so alone , I feel closer than ever to finding a home.
Warmth and a roof that doesn't leak , a place that is my own to sleep, food that isn't found in a bin, feeling happy and safe within . Huddled under a duvet with a book in my hand ,feeling grateful for my home I found. You never know where a journey would lead you just want to succeed.
About this poem.
I know this isn't written how poetry is supposed be but I didn't even intend on writing this , I just started to write and see what I ended up with . this is fiction but it also tells a story about the reality of people who do go through this. I don't know what they are going through as I haven't been in that situation.