Noone is there when you are crying,
or to be there to put you to rest.
You start to feel like a catalog buying,
leaving you feeling like you have never been blessed.
Only living on a dream, a light,
never complaining outright, or in spite,
Just wanting a home to call your own.
You run over to the window to get some air,
but you stop short, and with a groan, you say,
"This really isn't fair..."
you go back to your bed in this moonlite night,
with the same dream as the day before,
hoping that in the morning everything will be alright,
and a family will have found what they have been looking for.