Cruelty of Life

This could be me in a short time. It is a poem of injustice by society and hardship. How does the public look at a homeless person. Do you see a human being or just a bum.

This sound is not,

of a whimpering child,

but a full grown adult,

who stands alone.

 

He stands alone,

and unwanted in society today,

for his fortunes have gone south,

and he stayed.

 

He wept for lost hope,

of any chance of success,

and loss of pride,

for things in life.

 

Gone was the life he once had,

slowly and surely,

he went mad,

perhaps we should be sad.

 

But what of this poor soul,

so alone and not whole,

begging for help,

and pleading for relief.

 

So we knock him down and laugh,

for he is pretty pathetic at last,

and it would give us  a chuckle,

before we give him a knuckle.

 

This loser,

an offense to the eyes,

deserves no attention and our lies,

of kindness and pity.

 

Will no one stand up,

for this poor soul,

so pathetic looking and dole,

for what would make him whole.

 

This citizen of this great nation,

who is humbled by this indignation,

and only wishes to know peace,

perhaps somewhere south or east.

 

This person who is so humble,

who asks for little as he stumbles,

through a myriad of terrors,

of life has been barriers to him.

 

Terror is the norm,

for this poor soul,

nowhere to turn,

nowhere to go.

 

 Yet he wanders to and fro,

always asking where to go,

for simple things in life he seek,

a meal and place to sleep.

 

Deny we must,

to keep up appearances,

for life is now good,

for all the rest of us.

 

We pray for him to die,

and fade from the eye,

while the rest of us lie,

to ourselves and friends so high.

 

The day may come,

When fortunes change,

And we are on the receiving end,

Of the boot.

 

What will be our fortune then,

to hope and pray,

that someone will show us mercy that day,

and then show us the way.

 

Perhaps then,

the unfortunate soul,

will get his revenge,

but he will not ask for it.

 

For it is not in his way,

to turn away from a plea for help any day,

and he does what he can to help,

to give them a chance to live.

 

Revenge is not in his nature,

but forgiveness is his pleasure,

to help them stand true and tall,

so that they do not fall.

Author's Note

If you are sincere in your belief, then help those in need, who know, you may be helping me.

Reviews

[Eric Pudalov]

Very good poem with a strong message, Donald. I was a bit concerned when you said "this could be me in a short time." I wasn't sure if you meant that figuratively (as in it could happen to any of us), or that you really expected to be homeless soon.

I know exactly what you're talking about, too, as unfortunately - I'm guilty of it as well. I try to help people on the street, but it's come to the point where there are so many homeless, that I feel I'm not doing enough.

I feel that the best way I am helping is through my job, which is charitable work in and of itself. We provide ongoing care for people in need. But I see where you are coming from (I think).

I wanted to critique the poem, too, but I think I'll pass - you have really touched me with its message. I certainly hope you are OK. Keep writing!

[Donald]

My life is in flux right now. I have my own problems to deals with, my demons. No drugs or anything like that. Just a case of depression to deal with. But thanks for the complement.

[Eric Pudalov]

OK, that's good to know - I've had those times as well, trust me. I hope you get through it; stay strong.

[Moon]

Life can be so cruel. It can cause so much undesired pain and stress. Beautiful write, I really did enjoy it.

[Donald]

Thank you. I put a lot of thought into it.

[Moon]

I can tell and you are very welcome. Thank you for sharing.