Alone in life

Alone in death

Found under the underpass

With whiskey and bloated stomach

Did the birds mourn you?

Did the river whisper tears?

Did the moon keep watch

As you laid dying?

Did God glance your way?


Your stench found you out



Until now

They scurry about your corpse like ants.

They housed you in a morgue

Washed by the staff

Examined by doctors

Finally, you received some care.

If only you could see it.


Projected stories were your life:

“Homeless drunk”

“Washed up junkie”

“Lazy bastard”

Now they give you another name

“John Doe.”


This will be a homeless funeral.

Buried in a nameless grave

Surrounded by the company of others

Who also carry your name.

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