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Poem

He, a homeless man, sat silently awake
Looking no where
A lost soul too tired to fake
Knowing fear

Lord have mercy

He, a young man, sat angry at interruption
Entitlement in his pose
He batters the room with his verbal disruption
Raining woe down on the rose

Lord have mercy

She, a sweet woman, sat with sighs 
Upon her face
Her cries
A state of grace

Lord have mercy

I sit and watch and write it all down
Looking to the sky
I know how it all will sound
And God will hear my cry

Lord have mercy

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