The King Of Nothing Poem by chris schwartz

I'll take the hangover
Cause the pain is too bad
You all judge the drinker
Don't understand
The life he's had.
There ain't no coming back
Can't put a bandage
On His soul
Judge him when he stumbles
Say "Old man's Just drinking
Himself to death."
Close your eyes to the night
He laid pennies
On your counter
In the convenience store
Just to grab a pack of smokes.
Wonder why
He's been turned away
So many times
On the corner
Between evil and desperation
Holding his sign
And asking redemption
With your coins
At the next red light.
Look the other way
But when you sleep
Ask yourself
Where you are tonight
Don't think you could handle
The life of the man
Whose sheets
Were never pressed for him
Whose feet have never felt
The hot, forgiving sand
Of luxury.
Still you look past
Like this could never happen
To a sharp dressed man.
Most times, it doesn't.
The chessboard makes clear
Who we are
In the depth ofthe arms who
Hold the throne.
But you could at least,
Carry your wealth
With honor,
Sharing, recognizing,
Those
Whose purpose
You cannot relate to
Until your path,
Like those of the pauper,
Rests the same.