I stretch my finger in accusation at an acquaintance.
Why look down on people of low estate,
Why cringe at the mention of areas perceived as slum in the metropolis,
How dare You! Why won’t you do something?
So wealth is fearful of the masses, that’s why it resides only in your bosom,
May I ask to partake of the crumbs that roll off your table?
It is no value to you but your cast off makes tomorrow bearable for one like me.
I am deficient now don’t mean my future isn’t shining like the twinkle star,
Even when I wonder what I am now,
One day I might convince myself that despite dirty rags that now clings my skin,
And growling stomach about to devour its neighborly intestines and liver as food,
I may just believe that I am that diamond in the sky.
But now I need help to stay the dripping faucet that calls itself my shelter,
The holes in my tent are like observatory I often gaze the heavens, waiting!
Hoping that I am not forgotten here in the cold or baked by the scathing sun,
Maybe today I may receive a miracle from an unfamiliar hand.
Like Joseph, I may be called by a Good Samaritan to meet with royalty,
Then I can trade the rags for warmth, and eat a morsel to save my entrails.
Who knows, maybe someone will make life a bit better than it is right now.
It may even be you.
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