Street Kid

  Sleeping under cardboard
  In Mumbai
  Shivering on a beach
  In Libya
  Picking over rubbish tips
  In Lagos
  Stealing cars, smoking weed
  In Leeds
  Same look in the eyes
  Washed up, but rarely washed
  Wasted, like anyone cares
  Existing, for today at least
  Invisible; so far off piste
  Ghosts in plain sight

Meanwhile

 The privileged decide what's wrong and right
  Those for whom it's no surprise
  To be around tomorrow
  For another sunrise
  Pushing past the begging hand
  Everyone a winner
  Saving the moment for an amusing dinner
  Whatever that is

Meanwhile

  The street kid pauses
  Delivering his verdict with his eyes
  Knowing; sad for us both
  Losers and winners
  Caught in a web of lies
  Picking up his World in a bundle
  He looks back with pity
  We both know, but for fate
  It could easily be me
  Just another lost soul
  In a dog eat dog city

© Steve Singleton 2019