Poetry why should this be
With a piece of cardboard
Lying on the cold floor
In the shop quarters
In a dimly lit hallway
A cold breeze
No cloth blanket
Under the rain
This eye is closed
Why
Life is always suffering
Gone
I feel happy life
God
Why do my fate like this
Where I go
step as meaningless
I am the homeless
Even hut I do not have
Homelessness
Slalu with grief
Wherever it goes
People despise