Poem: A New Past

I finally have a past,
again,
for that I should be glad.
A history,
to place on forms,
to prove I'm good,
not bad.

A former Boss
and Landlord too.
Bills for phone and gas
and all of it,
writ in my name,
to prove I have a past.

There was a time
I could not say
what I'd been doing when;
And every form which asked of me,
went to the rubbish bin.

And every person,
that I met,
demanded me to prove:
Who I was and whence I'd came.
Otherwise: No Food.

I finally have a past again,
I hope it stays for good.

But even if it goes away,
it only means:
No Food.