La Historia de un Vagabundo

This is my story, I was born in a small coastal town in my beautiful country, I grew up there, I developed and got married, I had beautiful and strong children, I worked hard, I worked to get them ahead, It was until a few years later that my children began to grow up, I felt that it was no longer the same, they were moving away little by little, until I reached a moment in my life that I felt ignored by them. As time went by and they became more distant from me, I began to feel lonely and disillusioned.
One day, tired of their indifference, I decided to leave them and go far away, to look for new horizons, I arrived in the city and began to wander the streets, without a roof to spend the night, or a table to eat. I immersed myself little by little in alcohol, which I considered my best friend, it made me forget those sad moments in which I found myself, until the moment I fell fast asleep. Waking up the next day in solitude, although people came and went, looking for something to eat among the garbage and leftovers, sadness invades my heart, the night comes again, my bed and pillow is a hard cement floor. I have nothing left but to wait for death.