Stop, pause, read, and think,
Before you point at me,
Before you shout at me,
Before you cast judgement upon me,
Before you **** me.

What you see before you is…
My bed,
My bag,
My shirt,
My humble home.

I exist here,
In this leaking place,
Cold winds tear through here,
Purple pain injects into me,
Into my bones seeps the autumn rain.

I have art sprayed here,
Free from the confines of a museum wall,
I have songs here,
Songs my beloved Mother sang to me,
True and real, they wipe away my tears.

I am a son with no hope,
I am that daughter you sold,
I am the forgotten soldier,
I am a country forsaken,
I am all alone.