Poverty Nyc

Frigid temperatures drop Wind chill in low digits Park benches become co-ops Under newspaper blankets a man fidgets Trying to make the best of the hand he was dealt Man, he’s felt so many lows Now he’s just looking to sew any clothes that he can get his hands on into another layer Just to help him answer a prayer Don’t look at him like he has cancer & stare He’s weathered the storm many a time Trying to keep warm Begging for change A nickel A penny A dime He’s begging for change and he don’t even know it We show it doesn’t matter when we look at him Creeped out Stoic faces weave doubt into his old tattered coat Twice removed Shivering Giving up on life Defused How hard he tries or how hard he cries Strangers despise him Is it Darwin’s theory or Marx’ that deprive him? It’s a pitiful scene without words to describe him Defeat in his eyes with no Phoenix to arise him He smiles grim Not cuz he thinks something’s funny The trials trim away pounds from his face He’s got no money Can’t get a job Who would ever hire a slob? He’s got no address Doesn’t even sleep on a mattress He needs a shower, new clothes, and groomin’ Before anyone even considers him somewhat close to being human Harry Truman walkin through Manhattan projects Looking at people as objects We need to stop this Who’s got this? And who’s got next?