Is life worth the pain

Potentiality
The driving force
The bedrock in fact
A matter of course
Standing alone on a street
Far away
In an indian town
He has been made to pay

Flesh and blood
Standing
Bloodied and sore
Maggots the size of toes
Everywhere raw
Chafed from neglect
Bruised and in pain
Emaciated and filled
With disdain

What was his name
Did he ever have one
Out on the streets
In the rain in the sun
His eyes all caked up
With sepsis and grief
His bottom all sore
It must be a relief

To be found to be saved
To be helped all that care
Laid on a sack
By those so aware
Cutting the hair away
Washing the sores
Apply the powder
He had been through the wars

So many injuries
Fleas every where
Maggots and mange
So much despair
As thin as a rake
His bones sticking out
His feet also pained
Without any doubt

This soul is ailing
This poor boy sad
Saved by the angel
Who’d have thought that
He had
Even a chance to be saved in that state
But the angels they saved him
Which was bloody great

I take off my hat to them
What they have done
Is given a chance to him
Under the sun
In all that muster
The dust and the dirt
The maggots the lice
I bet that hurt