Homeless.

I cannot be who you want me to be.
My body is ever-changing, like a sapling
Rising from the ground, like the sun
Dripping gold over the horizon.
Shadows whisper and wan. My mood has
Changed. I am a blue-collared mongrel,
You say, and a fiend and I am hungry,
Wanting bread, maybe a hot dog with yellow
Mustard dripping from the edges of it.
I cannot be who you want me to be.
My body is ever-changing, ever crying,
Filled with pieces of information, skin cells,
And a lung.
Every day is just like the one before.
I have no family. I am homeless, without
A man, without a label-I quit my job as a waitress
Last week, my last check has been cashed.
I beg for change on a street corner, pretending
I am someone.