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On an Erie night high in the lands
there was an old homeless man who scoured for cans,
thrown out by the rich, sought out by the poor
for one mans trash could be another mans gold.

Food brought out by the wicked as they crept out of bed
only to throw their food down on the streets of Balarstead
where the old man once a young boy had grew
as his society failed to teach him while he was still new

Needless to say while he lie on the streets
waiting for townsfolk to throw food at his feet
enraged by jealousy he knocks and crys out on one mans door
whom he said he wouldnt be willing to help out the poor.

Crying on a stepstone that cold winter night
the old man waited for time to creep out of sight,
another night he'd grow hungry again
until the first mans neighbor took out his trash again.

The olden man went to reclaim his feast
as one mans trash became his golden ticket, the only one he could reach
It seemed that the old man was in a town he once called home
now to find the one mans trash is what he wants the most.

He fights to survive every night
as the snowy mountain town blinds his sight
he builds a fire made of one mans trash
so that he may wake up to make a new day last.

One day the man grew tired of eating all the townspeople's trash
because in the end the satisfying putrid taste would never last
so in the middle of the cold snowy night he fled
and he escaped the town of ol' Balarstead

He wanted more to feed his desires
so once again one mans trash conspires
and in the concrete jungle the old man could feel more at pace
as there was food strung all throughout the place.

As usual the man had always sifted through townspeople's garbage
in hopes to find something quite scrumptious
but on this night the man had found something new
something only in his dreams did he ever knew

on this cold winter night as the townspeople lay in bed
he sifted through the trash cans of Calimastev
where when he opened the trash bags near the rich local homes
to find many finely cut diamonds made from that perfect stone
it seemed that the old man had finally struck a massive treasure
so in the back of his mind he will always remember
that in one mans trash may be another mans treasure.
I wrote this poem out of inspiration from our towns only visible homeless man and recreated what he really wishes what would happen. I wish the best for him as he really is a good man.

— The End —