( CYCLE : STIGMA OUR SOULS )
I met you, you were in holey rags
Without one leg, you sat in sidewalk
Like a dog you ate something
A large pot to lips tilting
I asked help you anything
With ugly curse you answered me
After non long you in hospital I met
To it paid good people treatment
Your young son visited you, innocent
You were with yourself mercilless
No hope, no self-respect, not missless
Once similar man like ghost I met
In black, strange rags to church he went
He strolling, he didn’t ask for help
That was in heaven, he now imagined
Barefoot, hungry, some sign wanted
But many people ask much for help
Even it demand insistenly from others
They want comfort, careers, money
When gei it, they want more and more
When you refuse, they want you destroy
Help is like fruit
life-giving or poisonous
Help is like road
To nowhere, good or wrong
Pretty much someone don’t feed
But fruit him to distinguish teach
Rather don’t steer, dont push someone
But fly with him and show the road plan
And also sometime you ask for help
Together you two enjoy and learn
( November 5, 2024 )
