He lies in the heat, he lies in the cold
nothing to eat, feeling so old
taunted by day, hides through the night
last week another, lost this long fight
despised by the masses, his presence annoys
a menace to others, who have much to enjoy
Why doesn't he work, earn his own way?
Just like us, he should have to pay
Yet...
I overheard his story, once he had it all
a business and a house, then illness came to call
His days became a struggle, he started losing more
couldn't keep the pace, had to close the store
"Friends" turned away, 'We'll pray for you', they said
quickly they moved on, feeling pride instead
The day his home was taken, he begged for one more week
waiting on a miracle, but they wouldn't grant that week
Shelters were his home now, at least for a time
until the night he got in late, in there that is a crime
Soup kitchens helped, yet could only feed a portion
too many like him, not enough donations
He died alone last night, they said his health the cause
but I know the truth, a broken heart it was
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