A little death around the eyes

I knew a lonely beggar boy,
strolled through life with grimless joy,
hated by many
pityed by some,
loved by none,
he asked himself what could he have done
to deserve a life so dismal and discust,
why could he not have a life for one to lust

So beggar boy keeps begging,
some food, some money some clothes,
he doesnt care, anything even with a tear
but all he wants is a home to call his own
so he doesnt feel hungry, tired and especially alone.

You smug faced crowds with sinister eyes,
who mock and laugh as beggar boy stumbles by
sneak home and pray you’ll never know the hell where youth and laughter go

(Much inspiration was taken from Sasoons ‘Suicide in the Trenches’)

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.