Concrete BedA Poem by VoiceConcrete Bed Every night he stands In the alley behind the bar Watching the world pass by In front of his shopping cart His clothes are old and tattered His beard has grown quite long He is forced to steal for food Though he knows that it is wrong This world is very lonely And for him it must be worse I wonder if this poor old man Feels like he’s living in a curse He takes it day by day Just trying to survive And though he is not dead He does not feel alive The world can be so cruel And people can be too Some just walk right by him Is that person you? It doesn’t make much sense to me How we can’t feed our own And how in America a person can live Without a place to call their home They say we are the greatest country But how can it be true When there are children going hungry And there is nothing we can do?
© 2009 VoiceReviews
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Added on September 30, 2009Last Updated on November 8, 2009 AuthorRelated WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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