Poem -

queue at the shelter

queue at the shelter

Looking at the entry hall, another place to stay,
I hope they’ve got a bathroom I can use.
The people I can see in here look like they’ve run away,
They look like me, they’ve lost their chance to choose.

“Help her instead.” I try to say,
There’s always someone worse.
"It’s hard to do this every day,
But please help that girl first."

We smile and look away whilst we all wait to hear our fate,
Awaiting word on if there’s space inside.
It’s like a competition that we cannot celebrate,
For winning takes away another persons’ space to hide.

“Help him instead.” I hear her say,
There’s always someone worse.
"It’s hard to do this every day,
But please help that man first."

I look around and try to find some sense in what I see,
Bare feet, black bags and such sad jaded faces.
We all somehow wound up here, no two reasons seem to be,
A common path to see how we end up here in these places.

“Help her instead.” I heard him say,
There’s always someone worse.
"It’s hard to do this every day,
But see that woman first."

We hope and hope so selfishly in desperation yet,
The time comes where we all have to decide.
If someone else’s suffering can make us just forget,
Our own so we can help their pain subside.

“Help her instead.” I try to say,
There’s always someone worse.
"It’s hard to do this every day,
But please help that girl first."

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