• Trash cans,
    A scrap of bone.
    These things
    Make up my home.
    Big buildings,
    Empty streets,
    Broken glass,
    Cutting my feet.
    Slowly I walk
    Shivering,
    I feel my spirit,
    Withering.
    In my life,
    I'm alone.
    All the stares
    As cold as stone.
    Begging for money,
    By the roads,
    Ignoring me,
    They feed the crows.
    I never knew my parents.
    They deserted me.
    If my life is a door,
    Then where's the key?