Forgotten dreams

Beggars kneeling in tattered rags
blackened nails
hands outstretched
the stench of failure
their perfume
or was it society that let them down
used and stripped
and then spat out
among the crowds who walk on by
close their eyes
hold their hand across their face
and with the other
hold tight to their bags
their chests
their souls
should conscience call
compassion too-
for beggars
that walked our streets
lived in our homes
held onto dreams-
that were never theirs
and slowly life reached over
and took those dreams
one by one
by one
by one-
until one morning there was nothing left
except the clothes they wore
the shoes on their feet
that soon wore down
and the clothes on their backs
weathered
and nothing much was left
but the tattered
rags and the empty dreams
of beggars
on the street
that no one looked at
no one saw
no one wished to be