Kids not wanting to leave … the streets?

Hard to leave the streets,
the friends to whom we cling,
at night their warmth we feel,
[though sometimes bigger, older ones oppress,
exploit those younger than themselves,
bite, fight, suppress,
bully and use]
in gangs we roam and steal
at need,
– quick grabs to stem the gnawing hunger
or cash to feed
with drugs or glue that dull
and soothe the pains,
excite, give false euphoria, fake-full,
we do not have a home store-place,
with there a tender, recognising face,
no law –

but
it’s hard to return to daily work for food
and rules, routine, and ordered lives,
hard to face love
– or disappointment,
total change,
confinement, argument
of remembered home, and gauge
the unpredictable drunken rage;

or stay in shelters with those dependable
people kind, reliable …

they say that rules mean ‘freedom’ –
freedom from danger, and hunger
freedom from exploitation, abuse,
and suspicion, frustration
from those we scare and fleece,
and angry alien police –

but it’s an unfamiliar, unknown risk
to leave …