As I am sitting here, working at the homeless shelter in Chicago, my thoughts wonder to all the homeless, the Roma, and the gypsy/bohemian/nomad/travelers of the world, especially those in dire situations...
~ Morria
~ Morria
What Do They Know?
I sit here in this room,
nothing but this bag to call my own
Why am I here?
What has happened?
They say I am a streetrat,
an outcast, a vagabond.
What do they know?
I sit here praying,
Family's still on the move,
Why are we hated?
What have we done?
They say I am a streetrat,
an outcast, a vagabond.
What do they know?
I sit here in this slum,
nothing but rot to call a home.
Why don't they care?
How could things change?
What do they know?
We have a history,
We have names.
We are humans.
We are everyone.
MMN - 2009
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