The first meal I had

I stood out of place

Everyone was to hold hands

And say grace

Say grace for what?

Living on the street?

Awaking top cops,

And bugs under your bare feet?

Grace for no money

And grace for the shame?

Grace for dirty looks

And questions about why here you came?

Or grace for the person

That finally offered you a dollar

After watching you rifle

Through the trash for an hour?

How about grace for not getting caught

Stealing a pack of batteries from Wal-Mart,

So you could get a lousy cup of soup

And maybe some cheap meat?

What grace is there

When your considered trash,

The world’s throw back,

Everyone’s favorite laugh?

To me there is no grace

For those who have to stand in line

Begging for an extra cookie

Or piece of pie.

And you ask me to pray

To your god that’s so great.

To you I say fuck you,

What has he done for me lately?

Screwed up my life?

Made me a joke?

I was nineteen years old

And addicted to coke!

Looking for handouts

From a generous soul,

Finding nothing but spit

And laughs in return.

And those SUPPOSED to help you,

Here’s what they hand out

Some Vienna sausages

And a fucking pudding cup!

Yeah, that’s real healthy

And it tastes good, too,

If I was a wild animal

That ate my own spew.

And don’t forget the “potted meat”

Whatever the hell that is.

My dog wouldn’t eat it,

What makes you think I would?

That first meal I looked down

And stared at my shoes,

Thankfully new,

But soon would look like something a dog chewed.

So I stared at the faces

Of the homeless and the poor

Speaking the words

That I so abhor

Wondering how I got here

And if I’ll get out?

Or if I’ll just stay here

And rot in this hell?

Then the prayer ended

And I followed the line

To get my free food

And then sit down and cry.