That Extra Mile
When you're forced to live on the street;
you feel depressed, hungry, and beat,
begging for coins and scraps to eat:
while you're obliged to smile.
People scoff, tossing you small change,
labeling you as weird or strange,
treating you like you had the mange:
till each day's a trial.
You beg strangers for a handout;
seeking souls that won't scream and shout;
imploring them to help you out;
and go that extra mile.
An angel sometimes smiles at you
and offers up a coin or two,
recognizing all you've been through:
love shows, once in a while.
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