A man is standing in the rain
there is no one holding him tight
no love or romance, only pain
this is not a love story but a world where might is right
and money is the might and what's right is grey
where writers of the truth are send to be flayed
there are no keys in his pocket, no appointments to keep
no job to earn food, no shelter to rest under
only the rain that continues to seep deep
sleeping under doorways, or alleys of lands torn asunder
the food he finds are nothing but scraps from mighty
few and far between his skin hugs him tightly
wandering from place to place labelled as a problem
more for aesthetics sake than the real underlying issues
making their "beacon of civilisation" appear as a slum
and so they try to take more from he who has nothing to lose
guess it's easier to apply a coat of paint
than to tear down the foundations maintained by our own restraint
but yet there are those who help him
doing so because it is right. No grey.
Taking it up in themselves to do what others dismiss on a whim
And through this they rear their heads and say
This is what we should all do, regardless if status or cost.
For if we don't support one another we as a species are lost.
YOU ARE READING
Non Nobis Tantum Nati
PoetryFor a few years now I have been writing poetry, at first it was just something I did to pass the time and vent emotions that I didn't really have any other way of letting out but over time it has developed into something that I just find myself doin...
