…and feel ashamed…

Writings from homeless people in Clarion Alley

At night I hide beneath my blanket like a
boy afraid of the dark and feel ashamed.

I hear sweet music and remember
something good and feel ashamed.

I see photos of murder victims and wonder
what they thought in those last moments
and feel ashamed.

I walk past weddings and imagine the bride #
and groom screwing and feel ashamed.

I reach for the ghost of a long dead
lover and feel ashamed.

I open my eyes to discover that I’m
still alive and feel ashamed.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2016

Source: …and feel ashamed…

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