You stop me ask me my name
I tell you
You ask my age
I tell you
Your reply "aren't you a bit young to be on the streets"
"No" is my reply
Why you ask
"It's cos of what I have done, what I've went through"

"Tell me
What do you mean?"
"Leave me, leave me
Let me live my life, my life, not your life.
I dont want to go through:"

"Interview of Pain
Interview of Hurt
Interview of Sadness
Interview of Rejection
Interview of Memories"

I don't want a bed for life
I just want to rest for a while
So what's all these questions.
When I'm told I've to high of support needs,
I go "what do you fucking mean?"
What am I meant to do?
I don't want to go through that interview.

This poem was written when I was homeless in 1999,
I had been homeless for over four years in Central Loondon and could not get anywhere to stay.

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