I wake up in the morning as I run my fingers through my curly hair...I remember the awkward glance that the guy behind the park, the homeless man, gave me.

I open my eyes to yet another homeless day. As I walk down Moore Square in my baggie jeans, I grab my back pack and I head for a walk.

I think my appearance, as I look, I see other homeless people just like me, on the bus ride, number 21 back to the South Wilmington Street Center.

So I say, "What's Up?" to my homeless friends. I head to my doem bed 139. While I'm here I feel like crying but I can't help but wonder what the guys that shadow me when I 'm here.

I wonder how I was before I fell into this. I paint myself, in my mind, how life was before I came to Moore Square to tell my stories.

If you whisper, you may not be heard.

A life in Moore Square it is a real life...

A life in Moore square that will never end.

If you speak, you may not be heard, but will people listen...