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When is there a day for sweet sadness?

Where; a road for that lonely journey?

Locked behind that window pane of caged glass

A prison of our own devising that we label

A ‘living’…

That such living is a myth,

A lie we tell ourselves to make the tedium of it bearable,

We question not because it has become a necessity

The accepted evil in a society that has lost the penchant for

Celebration of the simple things – the good things.

I did a mean and small spirited thing

And now I feel the guilt.

I averted my eyes and strolled on

Past a fellow of society who needed help

But I bent my head and reasoned

That if I did not look at him, if I did not see him

Then he simply wasn’t there.

I was not alone of course,

Like so many others beside me I just kept walking

Thinking that he was not my responsibility.

And now I wonder am I really that jaded?

Am I really that small a person that I can not look past

The obvious?

He reeked of alcohol and stale BO,

But does that make him any less deserving of –

If not my pity, or charity –

Then at least basic human kindness?

And only now, when I’ve had time to sit and think on my actions

When I am once again tucked securely in my small prison of life

Do I wonder why did I not just open my mind and my heart then?

In that moment when I dropped my gaze and walked on by?

Why now when it is too late do I think on my actions and see them for

What they truly are?

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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