There’s a man lying on the filthy road
His clothes tattered torn and old
His stomach bloated in a definite display
Of hunger and poverty at play
His eyes are weary and shut
His only company a tired mutt
The sun seeps from dawn to dark
The dog waits without a single bark
Hundreds of feet pass through that way
Eyes drinking the scene all through the day
Most pass without comment
Their eyes sliding away, on their journey they went
Some saw the scene
And whispered a complaint snide and mean
Some just laughed
At the poor man for being so daft
But as the moon peeped out
And the cold seeped in
The man was still left to lie
Despite all the hearts that had ambled by
Left to lie, left to die
His eyes remained weary and shut
His only company still the mutt