Not Long Left - A Meeting With a Beggar

He is everything I fear:
The ripped remains of once
costly clothes, that hang
from his light lifeless limbs
make me feel hungry.
He stinks of piss, piss
that follows him where ever
he goes, piss that
seeps through his
skin, back into his bladder
to repeat the proccess again.
His matted hair, each strand
clings to another-rain washed,
greasy, weeping and dead.
I give him all the money that
hides within my pocket,
I can see others hiding their smiles
of admiration, thanking
God that he did not and will
not approach them. What
they do not know is that I
paid him to leave me be, to
stop this overactive mind from
scaring me so, my future might
be his present, maybe once
long ago he thought the same
thoughts as I. I paid him not out
of love for another human but
out of my own selfish fear.

Not Long Left

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