I saw her sitting on the floor blind to the world. Her tin cup made a worthless rattling noise of two cent coins. Her three year old son no taller than the bin he was searching in for second hand scraps.
The stale pup surrounds his small mouth craving more. Do I die of hunger or die of shame? Hunger does not know about brown skin, white skin or black skin, it only knows the disease that eats the skin.
The hunger pains grow louder wanting more, yet never having anything before. It’s a shame to see people hide behind high walls as to make sure that they don’t see human suffering outside their door.
You see them standing, begging for mercy, begging for help, begging for humanity, but it seems we have lost all that type of emotions as we raise our windows and lock our doors and I realize we should be the ones begging for our sympathetic and compassionate souls to be forgiven and not to be poor.
Melvyn Mohan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/value-of-human-life/
