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You crouch by me now,

A fake smile plastered on your face.

You probably don't care.

When you've handed me that cash you'll go back to your mansion without giving me another thought.

My parents hated me- kicked me out,

Did your parents care for you?

Cherish you?

Of course they did.

That becomes obvious now as I notice your lilac, satin dress,

Your makeup-coated face,

Your designer fur coat,

Your elaborately curled hair piled up into some fancy style.   

You pass me a few coins with your smooth hands bedecked with jewel-encrusted rings,

But I've seen your wallet- stuffed to the brim with these precious pennies.

More than enough, why not give me a few more?

It wouldn't make a difference.

At home your servants are almost  certainly laying out silver cutlery ready for a massive feast,

While I lie here in the cold.

Starving.  

They all look at me like that,

A stare filled with repulse and disgust,

Not pity, not empathy, disgust.

And you're no different.

You have everything, 

But still your sickly smile appears more like a grimace,

And your eyes don't fill with light or sorrow,

Only regret and resentment.    

Why are you even touching me? 

Why filthy your pristine hands for my benefit?

You might catch a flu from my overpowering stench,

Or breathe in some of the smoky air around me.  

Well I'll tell you something,

I permanently have a cold,

I always cough and shiver,

And it's because of people like you,

Who are selfish and greedy, 

And couldn't care less,

That I'm lying here now.

Freezing.

In your mansion, are your servants laying the soft duvet on your bed? 

Sweeping the floors of your highly-furnished lounge?

Filling up your massive bath with warm water and foamy bubbles?

Or maybe they're putting the finishing touches to a magnificent cake.  

Well I don't even have a house to clean.

I live on a piece of newspaper,

In a tunnel to cover my head,

With my money-hat- my only possession.  

You walk away now, 

Undoubtedly going to spend the rest of your cash on designer items,

You wipe your hands on the warm coat,

And your false-smile disappears instantly,

You strut away in your leather-heels,

And then you are gone.  

Until the next person.  

Stop and think about it for a moment,

Life is unfair.  

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