The lonely man stands
On the corner of the street
Dirty and ragged,
wary with defeat
Begging for spare change
He falls to the floor
He hasn’t eaten in two days
And hasn’t slept in four more
Desperate he enters
The only place said to be holy
And approaches the man at the altar
Trying to look less lowly
Sadly he turns, to face the priest
“Please sir,” he begs
“a place to sleep at the least?”
The priest looks down
At the beaten, nearly dead man
“Yes good sir,” he exclaimed
“But, might I ask,
Why you look so ashamed?
The man finally gathers the courage
To look his savior in the eye
And says to him,
“Dear priest, do you need ask why?
Alone and poor, I wonder this earth
I’ve no money, or job,
no friends, no wife
my families deceased, the others diseased
And all the peoples words, they cut like a knife
They scream out “bastard”, “bum” and “lowlife”
And smile their cruel, hateful grins
Because the people take no pity
In this city of sin”