Why i'm sleeping on the street. Nonagenarian Woman

I saw them
The Media.
They were all young.
They thought i was mad.
Working aimlessly in the street
with nylon bags containing rags and bottles
begging for alms from passerby.
They came.
The media.
They were very young.
Why are you sleeping on the street? They ask
Their eyes were full of raining desire.
I have two children.
The one who chased me out is my son
My only son.
He said i had spiritual powers
He said i kill the tenant’s son
They even beat me.
I am old. But i know it was the sickle-cell anemia.
The some shop owners on the street takes care of me.
I sleep under the tree
I sleep wherever the night meets me.
I want to die
but death has not come.
I am tired of this place
I want to go back home
To my people in ilesha