Monday, 18 May 2015


Maybe it's in the way they beg,
That brings your conscience down a peg,
The way they hunker down for heat,
Upon the stones right by your feet,
Holding a dog close by their side,
Appears for help with dented pride,
Their hopeless struggle day to day,
But still your eyes slide up and away.

And maybe you're just as helpless too,
In a world that favours a minor few.

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