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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