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THE TERRIBLE NIGHT

The lonely walk in terror
Out late in Paisley Street,
Afraid of all the reprobates
Winos, druggies, freaks.

The street folk of Footscray
Have learnt to live with fear,
Of winos, druggies, muggers
Starvation ever rears.

The down-trodden live in freight cars
Rusted out in sidings,
In packing crates and boxes
In fear and cold, they’re hiding.

The forgotten sleep on benches
Deep in Footscray Park,
Away from sight and thought
Lost souls in the dark.

We say we’d like to help them
But we just don’t care enough,
So they starve and die of cold
Street folk living rough.

We’d really like to help the poor
But in truth, we just don’t care,
We’d like to have compassion but
Compassion is now so rare.

So let the poor help themselves
Because God helps though who do,
Why should the rich pay any tax
When the rich were born to rule!

To hell with largesse oblige
We’re not obliged to carry our weight,
So if the poor folk starve and die
We know that it’s just their fate!

They’re fated to die without our help
And so they’ll just have to die,
We’re obscenely rich as we mean to stay
So let the poor eat humble pie!

THE END
© Copyright 2021, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

About this poem

Another of my poems about the downtrodden and street people.

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Written on June 16, 2008

Submitted by PHIL_ROBERTS on July 16, 2021

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Phil Roberts

I am 64 and loves cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry more…

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    "THE TERRIBLE NIGHT" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 21 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/105100/the-terrible-night>.

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