Poetry why should this be

With a piece of cardboard
Lying on the cold floor
In the shop quarters
In a dimly lit hallway

A cold breeze
No cloth blanket
Under the rain
This eye is closed

Why
Life is always suffering

Gone
I feel happy life

God
Why do my fate like this
Where I go
step as meaningless
I am the homeless
Even hut I do not have

Homelessness
Slalu with grief
Wherever it goes
People despise