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Frail

I often see her
Drenched in the rain
Pulling close her torn
And tattered rags
To protect against
The harsh winds
Sometimes begging
For food or coins
Sometimes scavenging
Sometimes just lying
Too tired for anything

We all see her
And many more like her
Some of us shell out
A coin or two, enough
Isn’t it, what more
Would a beggar want?
Sometimes food so stale
We wouldn’t feed the cat
But we think
She should be
Grateful for that

Not a thought on
What if that makes her sick?
She would be probably
Just die of pain because
Who will pay for the doctor’s fees?

We all see her
Yet we shy away
From helping her
Even across the road
Because who would
Hold a beggar’s hand
Why should we?

Because we are still
Made from the same soil
Today we have everything
But who knows tomorrow
Where we shall be?

 

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