The un-forgiven By james a. galgano In the middle of a rhyme comes a thought quite unforgiving Within each nameless faces we daily meet on the streets living On the outskirts of all hope, they find a way to carry on to each tomorrow Survival is not for the fittest but for those who beg steal or borrow In search of a glimmer of some redeeming light which guides their way Through each trial tribulation and sorrow that falls upon them far from grace Which knows each name upon every unforgettable face filled with a history Quite forgotten to all unable to realize but for the grace of some unnamed deity They might also find themselves to be as these memorable lives falling through The cracks of passing time often resigned to live through each morrow incomplete Left to trod alone almost unnoticed but for the passing glances eyes hesitantly meet While rushing quickly by seeming to escape for fear upon connection they may contract A similar disease or plight by mere touch or proximity what fools these mortals be Captives of their own awkward ignorance or cruel disdain they are not their keepers Silently they rationalize to justify what they cannot logically explain while in flight For out of such sightless minds, they flee on their own way into darkness out of sight Leaving souls, no less lost then they now declare themselves by their own inaction to be There within a middle of a rhyme a thought as unforgiving my guilt shares responsibility