Cockroach

You scuttle around with your hard shell of black military clothing,

You stick needles of art and pins of defiance in your body,

Your body is a canvas to the distress of your soul,

You live in the streets and alleyways eating food from dumpsters,

You hate the rest of us with our mortgages and car payments,

You steal from us and feel no remorse,

You scuttle around like a cockroach.