As I went out walking
On a cool and breezy evening
There lay a man with dirt
Neither in his mind nor in his heart
But in his long and unkempt hair
A man who was once fair
Now his face,a face of desperation
His body,a lean mass of flesh,
Clinging to the bones for dear life
His eyes,his tiny little eyes
Chill and icy,filled with hunger
His soul,defeated and tortured,
By the harsh realities of life
As he lay there begging, I walked on thinking,
Poverty-a disease worse than death!
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