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Dec 2018
The concrete jungle
Isn’t what God’s Son sold
Where injustices are untold
And senseless violence unfolds
Yet the homeless are trapped
In the cynical stone maze
Which might be mapped
But they’re caught in the ways
Of the trail they’ve blazed

They wander the streets
Looking for something to eat
Or at least drugs to defeat
All the ways they’ve been beat
They adapt to their environment
Their environment adapts to them
Never finding retirement
In ****** dens
But developing zen
So their mind can defend
What they see again and again

Some start infecting the city
With a mentality gritty
And an appeal to my pity
Doing drug dealer’s bidding
Rejecting society’s fitting
For their own personal living
Yet others bless the towns
With their communal sounds
Of philosophies they’ve found
After going round and round

They can hold pearls of wisdom
Or knives that cause incisions
They can help make bad decisions
Or tell you what not to do with precision
So they probably shouldn’t be treated uniformly
But then how should they be treated normally?

I come across two vagrants
One pulls themselves up by their bootstraps
Becoming someone fragrant
After falling into doom traps
The other offers to **** my ****
And make it quick
Or bust my lip
With a brick
To get their fix
These two must not be treated the same
And neither should be treated with shame
But we must resist playing their game
Of not cleaning stains and becoming lame

So I wonder where the kind treatment
From the compassionate elite went
When the fortunate used to act decent
For their memory of poverty was recent
But children don’t inherit memories
Only money and assets
So they feel wealth is their destiny
Ignoring negative facets

Vagabonds sleep near the intersection of my mind
Where fear and compassion combine
Creating a blurred line
So I can’t decide
Considering both sides
Of the personality divide
So I lazily imply
They’re both the same guy

I write them all off as evil
Saying they’re not even people
Unworthy to be inside a steeple
With the value of a benign beetle
I view them all as losers
And ******* drug users
And insane spousal abusers
And myself as supreme chooser

Not understanding the stakes
I joke let them eat cake
Suddenly emotions awake
They eat my head off a plate
I didn’t learn from history
Now I’m doomed to repeat it
So there will be no mystery
Once I’m eventually defeated
Andrew Rueter
Written by
Andrew Rueter  30/M/Kentucky
(30/M/Kentucky)   
178
 
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