The Man Who Lives Outside By Vicki Phipps
The man who lives outside.
Likes to sleep, however, sometimes all he does is weep,
He spends his time with a drink in his hand,
Sometimes he finds it hard to stand.
He thinks about what happened a long time ago,
His life was great, he was never low,
He had people around him, he had warmth, he had joy,
He loved his job, provided for his wife and boy.
Then he found another love,
One which gave him pleasure over and above,
It became an addiction, he had to have it every day,
For his wife and boy, they would pray.
That the man they adored would give up his vice,
Get back on track and get a better life,
But things didn’t work out that way,
He had, no homes, no job, no pay.
So, his home became out on the street,
Finding shelter from the rain and sleet.
He was no trouble, he used to watch the world go by
Listen to the music, the birds, the babies cry.
He does not beg, he has pride,
He causes no trouble, his belongings at his side,
With blanket and carboard, he keeps himself warm,
Sheltering from the outside elements and storm.
The drink helped him blot out the past,
All the happy time that did not last,
Now he looks tired his skin is worn.
He’s thin, he’s dirty, his clothes are torn.
So, the man who lives outside,
has gone to sleep,
The people who knew him, all they do is weep,
They raise a drink to the man they once knew,
A short life lived, known only to a few.
Who was that voice heard one day?
Was it that man who was thought to have passed away?
How could it be, he was clean and well shaved,
His hair was cut short, he was acting well behaved.
He was sober and happy with a spring in his step,
He no longer stood out from the rest.
He had been given a room somewhere to call home,
He had company of others, no longer on his own.
However, his housemates had issues with drugs and other vices,
With this influence, he could end up in another crisis,
His mental state needed to stay well
No more demons for him or living in hell.
So how do we help the man who lives outside
Ask ourselves why is there, and not inside,
Is he begging to supply his habits?
Or in a crisis, his mental state in bits.
By Vicki Phipps
Founder of Mindful Gifts CIC Darlaston