Pass By, He Will Wait

The Cardboard sign, he holds up his prison number.
Numbers are letters spelling “Spare Change”
The world you love holds the streets he’s trapped in.
Don’t count the begs you here, its like crying tears
They never seem to stop until slumber reaches.
You’re in your nice house filled with material desires
He’s still on the street, everyone he meets,
Another reason to tear up.
By the dusted roads swept,
He sits and waits for the sun to rise.
He sits and waits for the day to activate.
He sits and waits for an indication of freedom.
He waits.
Grace is not given
Sadness known only to the suffer and half way to the witness.
He ignores the idea of blame and gets strait to the reason.
To the path that leads to the pit his father dug. He stumbles, he falls.
A reason so bad not even the rocks thrown at him know for sure what happened.
You hold the constitute of pride. Wanting him to sign it. Looking
For self-pleasure you ignore others life’s trying to clutch the life you have,
His life you’ve forgotten.

I am grateful that I do not have everything I want. I have warmth from the cold and a comprehensive mind. I could loose everything material, and I can still be happy. The way I look at life and the situations that arise, it is the moment when I choose to be positive or negative, It is that moment that I am grateful for, I have a choice on the way I live my life, that's all I need. No matter what my heritage is, I have my name, my time to make use of, my goals to set and achieve.