Now these are not places, you would wish on anyone.
They fall under the headings of Help!
To some the above statement could be true.
To others — mostly the ones who fall — they are or can be Hell.
You have homes you love to go to
You have homes you invite others to.
But what if you have homes where no one wants to be and wants no one to know they are there.
D.C. has some of the nicest homes. Some we can afford, others we can’t.
There are places for the poor. Yet in summer they don’t come. It’s safer on the street.
Winters, you have to find them to get them in. Despite the cold, they still feel safer on the street.
I want to say more about them, but they may not like what I have to say. See, I have to live there.
There is one spot where the drug dealer waits for you to turn in onto the block.
In South East the guard sits in the house, while many residents take drugs and drink ten feet away, outside.
In the big new place it is nice and clean. Every night they have church service. But don’t go to sleep in church. You will be put out. Back on the street. Their God told them put you back out. (If you haven’t slept in peace in three days, don’t go.)
The help is there but act like you care.
You wash the sheets but not the blankets. You give me a shower but I put on the same pants and shirt back on. You care.
I come in dirty and I go out dirty.
