Treasures (Poetry Book Number Two)

The Beggar

Today I saw a beggar's face
He was pulling a wagon on the street
Collecting dump from place to place
While bruises and scars are on his feet

I looked down, my eyes grew wide
Burned skin all over his legs
My depression, I couldn't really hide
He's wounded yet to live he begs

His life depends on our garbage
He collects to sell them and maybe eat for the day
He couldn't afford even a single bandage
But to live, any price he's willing to pay

We criticize immediately when they're caught stealing
But think of it, are they really to blame?
Look at yourself as a human being
Being selfish, it's really a shame

Okay so I was on my way home, when I passed by this beggar putting garbage on his wagon, then I saw his legs and they were burned, and my heart ached for a little while. I felt sad that I couldn't do anything about it.

So I couldn't help but write this poem. I hope you like it.