His refuge is located under the overpass of the interstate highway, living with his few fellow companions.
His bad breathe was monstrously atrocious, only smelling better then the dumpster where he harvests his daily nourishment.
His body odor, not any better, since his only clothing is limited to exclusively what's on his back.
His soul possession consists merely of the clothes on his back, spare change and a cross bestowed to him by his own dear mother.
His purple heart, scarcely a memory of the days of being a brave soldier performing patriotic war duties.
His pride soared higher than the eagles fly, yet, this is where society left him when he came home from the courageous fight.
His past pride now diminished to despair in thinking that tomorrow's another day that he will battle for survival.
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