Outcasts – My Weekly Poem 6/6/2022

Empty pockets
pressed against his thighs
as he squatted by the curb
with distance in his eyes.

The tattered sign,
made just this morning,
asked for a hand
but others saw warning.

Stay far away!
to them it screamed.
This filthy nightmare
doesn’t fit your dream.

And so the outcast
must play his part
and mine the gutters
while we fill our carts.

We are not equals,
us human beings,
we always have outcasts
on which we lean.


Photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com

This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Outcast.

Published by Vos - Poetry and Prose

IT Professional by day – Creative Muse by night

4 thoughts on “Outcasts – My Weekly Poem 6/6/2022

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