Do you ever feel, like a plastic bag?

Whoever has no house now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening,
and wander the boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves are blowing.

Why not go gentle into this good night,
The world is burning and raving from beginning of day;
Calm, calm towards the fading of the light.

There is no poem, could comfort you.