Lonely living man-child mystery,
Living in the trash and misery,
Being lead to where the sky is gone,
Where's the sun, where's humanity?

No meal following from heaven above,
Warmth and cold a distant memory,
Unfriendly faces with eyes swollen shut,
Where' the reason, where's the hope?

Sidewalk hugger with nothing to say,
Staring blindly into the suffocating air,
Trying hard not to impede the humans,
Who barely know what happened to him.

Who created man from mud and solitude?
Why do we not see his face or hands,
Worn-well body just withering away,
Sense of direction now gone and dead,

Don't look for personal feelings and such,
His eyes are too clouded with hurt and fear,
His body so strong from the absence of clean,
Clothes are so tattered I wanted to scream.

When death comes to calling and taking away,
In zipped-lock bags, so sterile and cheaply gray,
Those with the eyes so clouded and removed,
Will have a rich dinner and laugh until though.