The first thing you notice are his bare feet,
Black and dirty.
Lacking a chair, he squats.
Lacking a home, he squats.
The second thing you notice are his eyes,
Sunken and hollow.
Desperate.
You walk.
He sees you seeing him.
You walk faster.
He smiles wide.
His teeth are as broken as the dwelling he guards.
Shattered windows for a shattered soul.
He calls out.
You walk faster still.
His sunken eyes suddenly grow sharp.
He recognises an opportunity.
You wear things of value.
You are something of value.
A second voice joins the first,
And then a third.
They point.
They chuckle.
They stand.
Your wealth represents their high.
Your body represents their high.
You run.

This poem is from the book, Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly