"I am not an alcholic or addicted to a drug,

I am here because I was abused by a thug.

He's in a warm bed after abusing me,

But wrapped in my blanket,I'm feeling free.

 

Free from abuse and trauma at home,

Round the streets with my back pack I  roam.

Life on the streets can be tragic,

But the generosity of the kind is magic.

 

My little dog plays his part,

Fed by many a kind heart.

He wags his tail at passers by,

Transmitting desire from each eye.

 

Been on the streets now for a year,

No room for dogs in hostels I fear.

I lie on cardboard for my bed,

A home I pray for before I'm dead."

 

Lucy