Please Don'T Judge Me

A short little guy, walks by, "please don't mind me," he wobbles. His shadowed face it asks, "is it five o'clock already?" He hasn't had a meal, his belly rumbles. He sits outside the local market, waving at each passing patron, how busy they are, ignoring his kind gestures. His kindness is mistook, with leers of suspicions, just a little man, in a big world, so pressured. A lost soul, who once had it all, homeless, people set his measure. A hobo, he's defined, by his, unfortunate life. Is he, only thoughts to you, as bread is, to taste the knife? Do you believe, that all is well, in his world, because he has survived? A kind gesture, would mean so much, he's begging for, acceptance from passersby. Condemned and broken, like the cracked bricks, where he seeks, warmth for the night. Just a little man, holding onto, a simple gesture, to stay connected with life.