Your asylum chains can’t hold me now, for I have long since passed
Criteria to be sectioned; more fragmented than stained glass
Pirouetting, chanting in the moonlight; naked... unabashed
Pushing trollies of fine treasure, things I’ve rescued from the trash
You see I’ve become a shadow, a mere ghost haunting these streets
Fragile, skin of crate-paper... I’m not surprised they don’t see me
When I sit in damp, foul doorways... they hurriedly walk right past
Don’t hear me say “got any change please?” look through me like I’m glass
No one comes to check on me, you see; they do not know I’m there
I can see it in people’s eyes... they look through me when they stare
As I obviously don’t exist... must have no need to eat
Or to wash or to stay warm or to put shoes upon my feet
So I’ll continue to wander... knowing they won’t come for me
After all, can’t chain spirits; if I’m not... soon be dead and free
Your asylum chains won’t hold me now, you waited far too long
I’ve dissipated into the ether... what did I do wrong?
When did the world stop caring whether the homeless live or die?
Aren’t we all God’s children, even the damaged, within his eyes?
I was mentally ill, you see, did not choose to be homeless
I once had a job and home like you, I was once nicely dressed
Asylum chains did not hold me; neither should they... times have changed
But did I deserve to die cold and hungry... delusional and deranged?
© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry
(Both Poetry and Art)