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The Man
Struggle and agony deep within his hardened hands,
Eyes like windows to a depleted soul,
Sweat dripping from his brow under the burning sky,
He begs for food and water as if he has not learned to be shy,
But all he receives are the dull eyes of the heartless,
Tossed aside by society just to be accepted into the world of the wretched,
As he lie on the floor, belt around his arm,
Dope needle half empty dangling from his battered vein,
His eyes cold and diminished from the onset of death,
Passers by dont even glance in his direction,
But many often wonder,
Who is this man?
