Living down by the rails
Wasting time that prevails
Wondering in streets and alleys
Asking money for a few O’Malleys
Nother day passes by
No more thoughts all a lie
All fake and unnatural
And non cultural
Curious people walking by
No respect, pretend they’re shy
Frightened of the cold
Cold generated by the world
Just a lonely soul on a round hard bowl
Hiding under the dirty blunkett
Coughin, scratchin’, an empty cigarette pack
Memories and dreams in a rusted tin
Most of them lost at sixteen
Sarcasm never wins
Patience is a virtue
It’s time to let go
All guilt and ego
The Beggar is a wise man
so give him a penny son...
Roger Bewman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beggar-2/
