It’s Ain’t Funny Anymore

The cold corner you’re at, your cardboard mattress, your soleless shoes
The smell of farts from my housemate is nothing compared to what your corner has to offer
The homeless grime and stains have found home in your clothes
I can see that filthy but precious body of yours through bug borer holes
I can even see you being insulted for bathing and washing in public ponds and toilets
I can’t imagine how you make it through winter nights
It’s ain’t funny that your tummy is whispering hunger sounds
That people swiftly pass your spot so you don’t have to beg
That motorists have too many blind spots when you’re at the robots
That your lips are dry with cracks for they rarely move to thank a conscience driven donor
It’s not funny but am thankful that your survival has given me hope
Your inner strength has clarified the value of life
For you, I pray and forever will