I see them every day, all over the streets,
Hoping, we will see them as they cry out to us,
As they struggle to fill their needs.
Am I, the only one who sees them?
With their ragged clothes, revealing their rib-bearing bodies,
And their cardboard signs, hoping someone notices?
But you and me both know, they don’t
Truly, I do pity for them.
Men, women, children, all of them! sad starving.
Yet they have Hope!
Hope that one day someone would come,And rescue them from this deep dark depression,
But you and me both know there won’t.
If those rich people, were to look out the windows of their luxury cars, mansions, jets.
Their Hiding Places, maybe, just maybe, they would see what I see.
But you and me both know they don’t
The wealthy they don’t have to worry about paying bills, or filling bellies.
They go to sleep every single night, without worrying where the next meal would come from.
While the poor, they sleep on nothing but the sidewalk that is cold enough to freeze the designer clothes off of every rich man who never noticed them.
But, I see them EVERYWHERE , Crying Out to us, to me.
We ask about it and you say, “We’re doing the best we can”
But you and me both know you aren’t.