I rush down the dark, snowy street

As the bitter wind tears through me

A street lamp shines a tear on the figure huddled

in that gray doorstep.

As I near the person there

My heart nearly shatters

I slow down to catch a glimpse of the weather-beaten face,

Dehumanized by society

shut out of the world's heart

What crime has this fragile being committed

to be treated this way?

I want to ask him the secrets his eyes hold

before entering my own warm home

But talking to him would hurt him the most.

My curiosity, while I stand dressed in so many warm layers

and he sits there in thin rags over a street gate

No one ever offers help;

There's not enough money, the government says

Just leave them alone

Pretend they're not people anymore. n