The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel
I was wandering around the city, feeling scared and hopeless. Of course, this is no different from any other day. Ever since I was five, I have known nothing but fear and the bitter cold of my own plagued emotions. I was never loved, only thrown about between several relatives and finally dropped in my uncle’s arms. I was treated like one of his pigs on the farm by him and like a hunk of meat by my aunt.
At twelve, I had had enough and left for the city where someone might find me more useful than dirt. I started out on the rails, hopping from train to train until I reached a city. It was beautiful in my eyes. Everything was so big and colorful. Lights played games with my eyes and people were everywhere. The smell of foods I had never sensed before made my mouth water.
I started my city trek looking for a place to stay. I had ten dollars that I stole from my uncle’s money box but that wasn’t enough. All the hotels and apartments were too expensive. Instead I took refuge under some abandoned box carts back at the railway station. That night I spent alone with thoughts of a grand new start to life.
For two weeks, I looked for a job but couldn’t find anyone to hire me. They all said I was too young or too small. Nobody believed me when I said I was as strong as a bull moose, as Teddy Roosevelt had said once on the radio. With no job and barely money to live, I had to revert to living low or maybe to a life of crime. My uncle taught me well in the art of the pick-pocket and subtle-store-store, as he called it.
After just a few more weeks, my supply of money was on a thin line and it was beginning to get cold. With the last few cents, I bought a winter coat and some boots. I had never seen snow, only heard about it on the radio. I knew that it was going to get cold in the city and wanted to be ready for it.
The nights were freezing and miserable. Sometimes it would rain cold and hard, soaking my coat, making it twenty pounds heavier. Now, I was starting to realize that I may not be able to make it through without help. I went to the railway station and looked for someone who was of my economic status. Eventually I found a group of them huddled around a small fire, under a canopy. They invited me in and gave me what I came looking for in the first place: a real home.
These were the people I spent most of my time with. They were all homeless, dead poor, and ragged. But they were all nice people that wanted me. Nobody back “home” ever wanted me. I finally felt like part of a family. I survived that winter, even on the brink of death, and even survived the ensuing years with the little community. I am a fighter, just like all those out there who make their living on surviving.
