Them

A story about the have-not.

 

An amalgamation of patches stir up their lives

Their tears tend to dry up in darkness

And all we can do is show vague emotions to reality

Only if you knew they can do without your pitying

Crowded in their falling houses they survive each day

Leaving one to wonder if we are all human beings

Their scars are forbidden by their smiles

The scars that were taught not to complain

 

In a corner she hides her outer despair

Perplexed by the life she calls fair

With coins making what we call a monotonous sound

All the same we do not recognise her begging

As we mistake her for an everlasting illusion

All the same she laughs at your stone-made hearts

And to spit at her is the best you can do

“If only she were dead”, is all you wish for her

Why for once don’t you comprehend with fate?

I hope it will not take time to know she is one of you

 

He made shapes he could not define

Now he wonders who his father was

And he thinks his mother was born on Mars

He is lost in drugs for the want of seeing stars

He has never tasted blankets

And that is when society is caught laughing with trumpets

Yet they call themselves Christians

It is a pity most no longer fulfill their missions

 

They all dream to be considered

But it seems racism prevails to determine whom to be saved

Can’t we forget that there is black and white?

We pretend to live when we are just showing off

Residing to publicise our madness

Whilst somewhere an empty stomach is groaning for help

 

The things they treasure most

Are the things we were told to hate

Late us take action before it is too late

Even it be as hard as to find that which is lost

I only hope that tomorrow we will make a difference

And teach death to resign from its quest

By not putting fate to test

For prejudice no longer has blood thirst

For the sake of he and she

For the sake of mankind