In earlier times the destruction of a man was routine.
Harsher realities, physical labors, simpler medicine.
Today, routine is unrecognized.
Many toil in settings which prompt no alarm.
Gnarled hands are not in view, while gnarled souls are in review.
The class distinctions and disdain
Are replaced by a new refrain.
Drugs and alcohol are his fault,
No thinking stops the assault!
Don't you know that we each, were equal at the start?
Can't you hear our call as children, each playing his part?
Our pains, though different, are just as real.
Analysis of our histories nothing will reveal.
"They were all good people once."
Could they be still?
Who is that inside that hollow shell?
...
C'mon, let's go...
-- J. Sandy