The Forgotten

Every day we pass by,

All the people we saw cry


But do we think of it?

No we just overlook the ones who quit


I sometimes stop what I'm doing,

To my dismay I just end up stewing


About the people who we've forgotten,

The people who have bought in


To drugs, to alcohol, to the easy way out,

Mulling over what life's really about


Why have I done this to myself?

Why can't I stop myself?


I can sincerely relate,

To all those people we seem to hate


It started for them with a dream,

Whether little or extreme


And for whatever reason they gave up,

Tossed it away like some paper Dixie Cup


Quit, failure, we've all had or ups and downs,

But these people are ones wearing the saddest frowns


But imagine what they'd look like with a second chance,

No longer being someone's second glance


A hand shake, a friendly hello,

For our friends down on skid row


You don't have to take them in,

Or make them one of your kin


Just put yourself in their shoes,

Before you start to brand and accuse

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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