Look Around These Minds Were Meant To See

A man sleeps on the streets,

Hair matted,

Clothes torn and worn,

He hasn't shaved in weeks,

But those tired eyes are glossed over with forgotten dreams,

If the past could show it's beaten face,

Would it cry that its to late,

Could it try to fix it's fate,

When it stares back upon it's mirroring form,

Does it see it's conflict,

Fire and ashes,

A father lost from his home,

Does it blame its self,

Only seeing a disgusting wretched being,

Can it believe in second chances,

Do people change or are they always the same,

How far can hope drag tired bones,

Can the future be bright while we sit in darkness,

A man sleeps on the streets,

Maybe it should just mean nothing