A poor old beggar

i don't get food everyday,
if at all i get, it is either leftover or
just the dull, porridge,
iam a poor old beggar,
life is not easy for me,
each day is a srtuggle,
iam not clean,
my clothes unwashed for many days,
 my beard unshaven,
come near me  and all you will get
an unwelcoming smell,
i have no shelter,
iam a nomad,
the streets are my shelter,
come rain or winter
summer or storm,
i move from one dorm
to another place.
I see the rich with
their swanky cars and
plenty of money
everything puzzles me.
who is responsible for my state
me, myself, society, my parents or God
Now and then i get some job,
then oneday the job is gone
iam to beg again
after much searching ,
i get one for few days again
my strength gone
old age homes have no
place for me.
But as long my heart beats
i need to be surviving,
though i would love to depart from
this cold world
to some warm world
where i get good food to eat.