Dire Reflections

What of that man on the street
Broken down as he deflects our frown
Hard miles under his feet
Ever the jester of this no name town
Hollowed darkness in his eyes
Wild and untamed
Glossed over with tears and lies
Benumbed and unclaimed

Casually glancing in his direction
An uncomfortable moment
Breeding forever the misconception
Our rejection so fluent
A small part of us hopes he will just go away
Our ignorance of this is pursuant
Casting off yet another unwanted stray
As we ignore him the filthy truant

Hardships of a stomachs growling
Remember the pain of too much hunger
Attacking winds harsh and howling
Mental state broken asunder
Memories of wounds that would not heal
Justify the need to plunder
Shame in forced hands that will surely steal
To stay sheltered and fed in the gutter down under

We ignore the disgrace he must suffer
As we harden our hearts to reality
Relieved for once a sociological buffer
As we perpetuate the unfeeling brutality
Not even a thought for the worry of his mother
Who was absent of her inherited morality
Or ever the ache within the heart of his brother
Ever revealing the sacred finality

Surely, he must hold some accountability
Recognizing his faults and past deviant dealings
Identifying the need for the illusion of stability
But it matters not when it comes to his feelings
To never know the comfort of love unconditional
And to pay too much a night for a room with a ceiling
For a solution we consider traditional

And some how still with the dollars upon dollars
That we pour unto the wars
Of egotistical martyrs
We find no solution to our uncaring plan
There are no obvious answers
For the quandaries of this man
That he may starve and die
In this system we apply
In the excessively diseased wealth of his very own land

None of us truly know how to respond
Some realize his existence and are compelled into action
But others just laugh and move right along
Some find comfort in complacency and give but a fraction
They blame his appearance and the broken down box near the wall
Where he suffers at night from apathetic inaction
Never thinking for once that he could very well be
In places too dark where frightened he crawls
With his unshaven face and his earned felony...

...The simple yet harsh reflection of us all