seaside rest stops make for homes to the damned
and the streets are my own palace.
the end of all things good must come
as i still wait for the beginning.
frozen and bare, the eyes of a quarter
stare at me from my paper cup as
passers-by think this passes for
doing their part.
yet inside these eyes of mine is
a gift to all these souls who
only care out of guilt-
and only love because someone's watching.
there are the places inside me
that will alwats have a home.
my head, my heart. my soul-
if notice was taken to my
wealth of inner self
not to my lack of wealth
in their world-
they will see.
i have something special for them
inside of me.

yet i am cold,
yet i am slowly wasting away.
yet i am still being thrown
a quarter, because they think
i was thrown away.

03/16/2003

Author's Note: in 6th grade, my family was out of a home for a few days- and this is a rewrite of something i wrote in that time. i realize that i have it far better than most, but still.

Posted on 03/16/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams