A Poverty

There is a beggar on the sidewalk
Who doesn't sleep nor talk,
He only holds out his hands for alms
And accepts everything without a qualm.
There is a different beggar who walks the sidewalk
and wishes her heart turns into a rock
Yet she's plagued by a spiritual poverty,
That miserable, walking beggar is me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Of Filth and Wretchedness

These Words

The Evil Hour