Our Homeless:

They live in the shadows of our well-manicured streets
Never surfacing until the fortunate are fast asleep.
Their daily bread consists of stale righteous handouts
Guilt offerings left behind by the overindulgent.
Distant childhood memories are few and far between
Crushed by angry voices muttering,“ you don’t belong!”
Never tasting the sweetness of a welcoming home
Merely thankful for any shelter on bitter winter days.
I wonder if the homeless are really angels in disguise
Sent to test our willingness to care for those in need.

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