A Beggar
With his mismatched clothes hung on his gaunt frame,
undernourished, he stumbled and staggered.
And begged from the shadows to hide his shame,
looking like a scarecrow, lean and haggard.
With a toothless grin contorting his face,
his claim of being sober seemed far-fetched.
And appearing lost, shivering in place,
he sat with his skeletal hand outstretched.
His misery drew not a single tear,
only your scorn, mockery, and laughter.
And you took time to make it crystal clear
that the homeless aren't worth looking after.
What will your excuse be, come judgment day,
when Christ asks, "Why did you treat Him that way?"
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