I see the downtrodden, smelly, grungy, muttering, and I hide,
Drifting slightly left or right on the sidewalk
Averting my eyes on the train
It’s all a form of hiding…
Rarely remembering there are people underneath
Those cloaks of dirt and grime.
People, just like us, but hurt
Shriveled, stuck in a downward spiral,
Spewing cruelty and foul words, or perhaps just a plea for food
Gollums: a shadow of what we could become…
Should the universe not treat us kindly.