The Alley Of Hardship Poem by susan brealey

Circulating the cosmos on a velvet spire,
I notice changes on the third planet from the source.
Very unhappy with the thought process of many,
I begin to pull the plug on those who disregard my mantra.

As the Winter Solstice ushers in the frost of my being,
There are those who suffer from the hardships of life.
Living day to day out of boxes thrown to the curb,
They sit and watch those who are blessed walk the golden road.

In the alley behind Park Avenue, Keith wilts away from hunger.
Once a somebody, Keith now lives on the scraps of those who care.
Freezing from the deep winds of the north, Keith will not survive.
Touching not a soul in sight, Keith's story is not a one act show.

I beg of my creations to help those who suffer from the trappings
Of a life that at times, is not fair. Created to thrive, instead,
You think about the material aspects of a life that destroys
The inner sanctum of the soul that was supposed to ease the burden.