The Plight Of The Destitute Poem by Dr John Celes

Whoever thinks about the helpless and homeless,
the vagabond, the destitute, orphaned, beggar
forced to live upon the many pavements and streets,
Or elderly sleeping, dying on the park-bench?

The world cares not for souls sans dignity;
Old-age, diseases make them miserable;
Their only joy is sleeping all the time,
Dreaming about a world of fantasy!

Some newspapers become a blanket in the cold;
Even the fierce wind feels sorry for them;
At times, some beer gives inebriation;
They wish they die but death is not so nigh!
Yet, they won’t ever commit suicide.