The Man on Guy Street
Bruised head and crimson scars Forgotten by the crowd Dried lips and desperate voice A parched throat Bitter wind and cruel cold His crushing beam A cry for help, the call of the poor: “I’m hungry! I’m hungry! I’m hungry!” A hand extended, food is given Alas! no balm for the scars No cover from the cold Bruises left uncared for on the head with the crown of thorns. …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. In the past few months, we’ve heard of several tragic deaths of people who were leaving…
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