Wednesday 23 February 2011

THE BEGGERS PLEA

There is no humanity in a life lived at waist height. You think I am homeless because I am a drug addict; I am a drug addict because I am homeless. How else should I suffer the shame and ridicule projected on to my soul by the eyes of those who cannot even afford a smile, let alone their spare change. You don’t even look at me as you close your senses and build an image of my failures in your mind. How dare you make up your mind about me, I have spent my entire life asking questions and I still have no idea who I am. I am the shinning sun obscured by clouds, I am the child’s laugh muffled by the hand of society. I am a different species every single day. I could learn and evolve with every blink of my eyes if I were allowed to see. How dare you make your mind about me and then freeze me in time.

Your drug is possessions; it gives you distractions from the noise of the meaninglessness in your life. Mine; well it takes my pain away as I sit slumped, defeated and discarded in my door way bed, being reminded every day that there is no humanity in a life lived at waist height.
Would you still be so quick to judge if you were to walk in, well, what is left of my shoes. Could you take the utter fear that engulfs every time your stomach rumbles, because you know you only have two choices. You can head out into the mine field of emotions and insults as you beg for the right to eat knowing you will only end up at your second choice, pulling out discarded food from bins.The line is thin between you and I, that‘s why you cannot stand to look upon me. All it takes is one wrong turn, one bad choice. We are all just an echo of the people around us, keeping the sounds of comfort alive. When that echo fades your just an empty canyon that souls end up walking around to avoid joining you at the bottom.

Why should you look at me, what have I done to deserve your compassion. I am sorry for letting my despair disturb your day as you walk like a penguin to stop your spare change rattling. So on behalf of the fallen and the falling let me apologise to you for turning your streets into muddy fields. I guess people like me deserve to be where we are, after all we could just go get a job. I left it too late to ask for help and now I can’t get it. Your desperation is close to mine if you are such a slave to your last penny. You know your soul is dry and sparks fly when two souls rub together and you’re scared of catching fire. Well I have crashed and burned but every time you finger down the declining decimals of your currency you’re counting down to your own combustion. Very soon you will see for yourself, there is no humanity in a life lived at waist height.

©Mark Anthony Games / The Human Voice 2010. All Rights Reserved

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