The limits of my language mean the limits of my world. - Ludwig Wittgenstein

On the Street I Sit - A Sonnet

2 nominations

I sit and muse - what does my life entail? Without a glance the shoppers pass me by; Their heads bowed low against the icy gale, In life so cold, so cruel, now trapped am I. By drunken yobs and louts, assaulted, bruised; A life to which the pit cannot compare; In alleys taunted, groped, harassed, abused, Here I sit distressed and in despair. What brought me here? Engulfed by fear and dread, My brutal father beat, assaulted me; And bullied at school, away from home I fled, And on the streets - a life I didn’t foresee. Where now for me? Outcast and on the street, I sit and wait, until my end I greet. The subject of this sonnet is clearly a young person of about 16 or a little older. He or she was spotted sitting in a shop doorway late one evening. The poem outlines the issues confronting young people who find themselves on the streets after leaving ‘home’ following a family break up.



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