My poem – My life on the streets

My Life on the Streets.

A few years ago, I hit rock bottom,
    My life and my head hit the floor.
The council, they charged me with bare bedroom tax,
     But instead of their help, they showed me the door.
I’ve slept in doorways and walkways
      And any place that I could,
I’ve slept on friends couches,
      And some places not good.
I’ve been punched, I’ve been kicked,
     I’ve had my cardboard set on fire,
The only thing I haven’t done is let
     My body out for hire.
I’ve asked all of the agencies
     And services for help,
They all say the same, there’s
     Not enough risk to yourself.
So I’m sitting here now, begging for change,
     And everyone looks at me as if I am strange.
I need the money to live, ‘cos nothing is for free,
But it’s always someone else’s problem,
     They don’t wanna help me.
I’ve begged and I’ve pleaded,
      I’ve even tried to steal,
But it’s taking longer than I thought,
     For my head to heal.
The mental health service said,
     “We’ll help, just wait there”
These professionals in Health,
     Do they really care?
So I sit here patiently
     On all the waiting lists,
It’s a warm radiator and
     Comfy bed that I miss.
I know that I will eventually
     Get myself out of this rut,
I have to believe that in
     My heart and my gut.
   By Kelly Clark.  18/02/18

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