Poor Wretch

Shivering, Huddled in the dark,
A trembling, shaking, sad wretch.
Weak, broken body that's wracked with sobs,
a thin, pale, scarred arm you outstretch.
Pleading for a passer by
to take notice, take pity on you.
But they walk on past, never seeing
Any mercy they feel, they subdue.
And you shake with the cold of their cruelty,
as you shake with the wintry cold.
You will die on the pavement, unheeded
By the people who's souls have been sold.