The Beggar

Just a thought.

A cold and heartless stare,

Was all he could offer the beggar,

Ugly, malodorous vermin,

A waste of human life.

He quickly walked away,

Disgust and contempt on his face,

Glad to put distance, between him,

And the beggar’s nauseating stench.

 

The beggar kept on begging,

Unceasingly rattling his alms,

The meager coins in the bowl,

Would provide his only meal of the day,

He thought of days past,

When he was a man with a name,

A name that had been lost to the world,

Now his name was the beggar.

 

The streets he had once proudly walked,

Were the ones he now called home,

His tattered clothes and begging bowl,

The only things he owned,

The bugs he had once trodden,

His body they now infested,

A man whose name was lost to the world,

Now he was known as the beggar.