There is trouble inside

beating like a drum

a soldierless battle

the victim almost outrun

overtaken by debt

hunger and pain

fight almost gone

little remains

Watches the rich

as they head their way

maybe they have come from a show,

his hand outreached

no mercy returns

charity rumbles

on an empty tum.

Tonight is cold

but who cares

sleeping under cardboad

beneath concrete stairs

a victim of life

in an unwritten war

mental states of mind

entrapped inside

unable to change

in a world gone blind

of really cares

with no hearing

of any big issue

other than his life

when the rights of a free man

become erased from law

he is called a vagrant

whom we want

to see no more

at least

not on our door.