They are treated less than human.

Beneath the peoples feet looking down

on them with contempt and walked on

like a sidewalk, trampled on are these

wild flowers. Being pushed around from

place to place  as if they are a garbage barge

nobody wants.

There are reasons, rationalizations why 

they are thrown out of the human race,

banned from humanity but the rationalizations

pale in comparison to the faces of the wild flowers

visibly in pain with desparation and dispair 

shining in their eyes, and with their all too human

voices and their last breath they whisper, some

times cry out  "why?"

But those who have been spared the brand of the

wild flower being burned into their flesh tend

to forget they are looking at human beings and nothing less.

 " Get out of my sight!" the more fortunate  do yell.

But, who are the real ones who are going to hell?

How fortunate can one be when he has a hallow heart?

How fortunate is he who tears his own soul apart?

How fortunate is someone who has made his conscience numb?

How fortunate is the man or woman who has

forgotten what compassion is and made their world

void of love?