The Man
The Man
A man sits down on the corner, his clothes are tattered and torn,
His mind is so exhausted, his body's completely worn,
He pleads with himself to keep going, though his feet are raw,
Because he knows if he lingers, somebody will call the law,
His eyes are bloodshot and droopy, he never sleeps very well,
His meals come out of dumpsters, his body is thin and frail,
His bony structure visible, through his worn and dirty clothes,
His shoes are old and ragged, and leave his feet exposed,
I wondered what he's been through, and how he ended up there,
Life has clearly handed him more than he could bear,
People passed and shunned him, or treated him like dirt,
And when I looked into his eyes, I could see the hurt,
I gave the man a sandwich and talked with him awhile,
I was quite surprised to learn he spoke with so much guile,
He told me a really sad story about what he'd been through,
I realized how easily it could happen to me or you,
He doesn't deserve to be hungry, or tired, or cold, or scared,
He deserves to always know that someone out there cares,
You could ease his suffering, with a couple encouraging words,
We all have the same value, regardless of what we are "worth",
He isn't useless or worthless just because he don't have much,
The man is a human being,
He deserves to be treated as such!
©Amanda Hale
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