Piece by piece

I walk down this melancholic street,

down the cold, pavements...

I see them in their tattered clothes,

the beggars on the streets, the present day's ailments.

Hunger burning in their eyes,

poverty evident in their smell.

The cold is their shelter,

life is their own personal hell...

I see them,

I see them everyday...

I ignore them, pass by them,

and I lose a part of me day by day...

I see an old man everytime I go outside,

a broken smile forming on his wrinkled face.

He weakly shakes a rusty, empty cup,

asking for something to put his hunger to ease.

His hair shines silver with old age,

his eyes reflect pain, and dismay.

his smile nothing but an empty facade.

I pass by him, and lose a part of me away...

*i was suppose to post this last christmas but sadly i wasn't able to....