The streets

Is he invisible to the naked eye?

Can’t she be seen by the passers-by?

The track marks on her body,

Follow them; they tell a story,


Full of heartache and purgatory.

We look, but nobody thinks to stop,

Judged and moved on by the cops.

Nowhere to turn, no one who cares.



Attacked, beaten, and we're totally unawares.

Starved, cold, full of constant nightmares,

People watch with disapproving stares.

The evil of the streets turns them numb.



How did they end up with this outcome?

No shelter, no water, no food or fauna.

Begging, but they seem to be poorer.

Just a sniff, a smoke, a needle, a drink.



What if it's not, and there’s another link?

The streets are cold; it chills them within,

But we all judge their "so-called sin".

Tomorrow he could drop down and die.



Without a thought, a prayer, or even a sigh.

Are you just another to walk on by?

Will you be a shoulder for them to cry?

-To hear their story, to listen to their plea,



I know which I am...

But you're not me.