In a corner of a boulevard,
Hidden in plain sight.
He’s constantly on his guard,
‘Cause everyday is a fight.
All alone in this crowded world,
No place he can call his home.
Shivering in the ruthless cold,
He just sits there like a garden gnome.
The crescent moon his only friend,
That just stares at him while he soaks in the rain.
That long winter night somehow he spends,
But so much crisis still remains.
He sees someone passing by,
And dares to call out for help.
But there’s no response to his cry,
He’s ignored just like a whelp.
He doesn’t have no aspiration,
All he can think of is survival.
But somehow he always ends up in frustration,
‘Cause he always finds himself in a trial.
Although treated like a street pup,
He wonders why they call him “black sheep”.
Hoping that he doesn’t ever wake up,
He silently cries himself to sleep.
I write a poetry blog “Poems from heart” (www.poemsfromheartcom.wordpress.com). I am an aspiring poet. I have had a few of my poems published in Cambridge Hall Poetry Journal.