This is the fourth week

A short poem on my struggle for a place of meager comfort.

Today, I went there.

We walked with slow yet calculated steps, my skin was slowly easing out, like butter on a very sunny day.

This wasn't my first or fifth attempt, and I was completely drained. The only motivation I have is the fear of not sleeping outside or having to stay with someone who would not appreciate my presence. The man, we were going to see, is a highly respected man, and as with most respected men, he had something we were interested in.


I found something very interesting about him though, it's his manner, his character, and attitude. 

I had expected him to be highly dismissive and not pick calls from people who do not look like they can help him, or people that wanted a favor from him but he doesn't know them on a very personal level. But he surprised me, by picking my calls and my friend's calls, and many others seeking the same favor.


He surprised me, by gently inviting us into his office. He spoke in a cool tone. Though he was lying most of the time, it was a burst of freshness and it was thought-provoking.

1. So you mean, people in certain positions can pick every call and can also see all kinds and manner of people? 

2. So they can talk to people in a cool tone and reserved manner?


Though it saddened me, upon discovering that he had lied again, I appreciated his openness. I appreciated the fact that he was saying something very deep (about being in authority or position)  and he did not even open his mouth.

This is the fourth week. He keeps lying, and some days we will play it off. Some days, we get livid. But never we won't give up, we won't never.

We won't, because we can't and because giving up is not an option.