Replying to English Presentation Tomoro

I have to do an English presentation tomorrow, I just have to read this poem I wrote...can I please have some feedback on it..thanks! The Forgotten Ones

The glistening sun glides up from behind the sparkling windows of the high-rises.
It is your time to rise.
Carefully, place all of your belongings into your grimy bags.
You don’t want others to see what it is like to have to sleep where their garbage is kept.
The familiar ache of your hunger returns.
It pounds your stomach like the hundreds of feet walking to work.
Work, a privilege many take for granted, and you witness this with frustration.
The honking horns, yelling, and bustling,
Slow down everyone, you have families who love you, and warm, comfortable homes to return to each night.
You make your living on the corner.
A cardboard sign and a sticky cup found in the gutter will provide you with one small meal today.
You make yourself comfortable, many people rush by.
But you are ignored,
The ignorant citizens believe that by ignoring you the problem of poverty will go away.
Do these people have children?
Do their children ever misbehave?
You did once, and that is why you are out here in the cold.
Why couldn’t you just get along with your parents?
Not everyone has perfect families, but you didn’t need to run away.
Now you are stuck on this windy street corner with a threadbare sweater and running shoes with soles so thin you feel as if each pebble is personally punishing you.
You wait all day.
You have nowhere to go, and you don’t believe anyone even remembers your name.
It has been a long hard life on the street, but you become of everything.
The looks you receive from passers –by,
They are a mix of disgust and frustration.
Disgust, that you are sitting outside their place of work, wearing leftovers of the years gone by.
And frustration, why can’t you just get a job?
You do nothing all day.
The attitudes of others are becoming your own.
These important people would never hire you, the closest you will ever get to them is to sleep next to their discarded lunch.
There are those who give you their pity,
You can hear their pity with the clink of their spare change tumbling to the bottom of your cup.
This is the most satisfying sound of your day.
This sound means that tonight you might be able to afford a cheap meal from the restaurant down the street.
A restaurant where the lights are dimly lit and customers are few.
The smoky haze provides a barrier between the eyes of your customers and your dirty back.
The greasy food you consume grips to the sides of your dry throat,
But you enjoy every crumb because you do not know when you will have the pleasure of another meal.
Silently you slip back to the streets.
It is time for you to rest once again.
The stuffing of your sleeping bag spills onto the sidewalk,
But it provides you with great comfort and warmth.
Warmth, which you have not experienced since you were a child nestled between your parents during a storm.
As you lay drifting off to sleep you wonder about your parents, your family and loved ones.
How they would cringe to see you now.
But you are forgotten, you and the hundreds like you who roam the streets.
You are the forgotten ones, and for this reason the cycle will never end.



.lauren.