You think I am violent
that I need an asylum,
I'm a criminal in spite of despair;
I smell bad, I'm dirty
'think no words can hurt me,
you look at me and act unaware.
"A job's all ya need,
no housing, just be
a success in your tent on the street!"
But where's my I.D.
and the pic of my niece?
They were tossed by the city P.D.
The measure has passed,
the money's changed hands,
now the law book is perfectly clear;
"Here's your citation,
you lost your arm for this nation?
Thanks a lot, now get outta here."
©Holly Silva, 2018