A Portrait of Pain

A Portrait of Pain

Muddy streets, rugged clothes
Shivering and cold, shoes ripped at the toe
Looking for answers, but finding none
Looking for a meal, even just one

Scorching sun, clothes are torn
Hearts are heavy, but there’s no scorn
Children crying, cause they’re left alone
Their parents are gone, to somewhere unknown

Painted walls, flowers and green
These walls are a prison, to many unseen
Wheelchairs slowly moving, eyes start to close
Their family visits, they don’t even know

Eyes cast downward, at the ground
Wheeling their chair by, not making a sound
Don’t want to be heard, or to be seen
If nobody notices, they could be just a normal teen

But here lies the turmoil, here lies the pain
It seems that their loss is our gain
We see the pictures, the stories get read
But at the end of the day, these people are still dead

We say that it’s mean, that it’s unfair
We promise love and equality, saying we care
Then why are people still hungry and dying
Why are orphan children still sick and crying

Why don’t we visit the people in the “homes”
Make them feel loved, show they’re not alone
Why do we outcast the different so quickly
Why do we judge so many as “strange” or “sickly”

The pain is ours, it’s no longer theirs
For at least they don’t have to pretend to care
If they smile for a second, it makes us wonder why
When look at us, so rich and loved, who so quickly cry

The guilt isn’t ours or theirs, it’s been taken away
Nailed to the cross on that dark, long ago day
Yet still we pretend the pain isn’t real
Maybe it isn’t to them, when it’s all they ever feel…

Do something about it! Even if it's one hour you volunteer, one donation you make, one letter you write...that could mean ONE life. And even ONE life saved is better than none. Don't stand by and let it happen. Please.