Perspective

The rich man pauses at the corner
His eyes blinded by what is there
Homeless, lost, and abandoned
The smell of the stench in the air
He sees not a soul that is hurting
He stands and walks down the street
His mind is focused on his business
Not a single person’s eyes does he meet
His cell phone he holds tight to his ear lobe
Trading stock on Wall Street - his career
Never does he once take a good look
At all the hearts surviving on fear
Of living alone on the streets of New York
No place to call home or use as a bed
No time to dream or to plan ones day
Taking time you could end up dead
The world just seems to keep on spinning
Round and round - it never seems to stop
Like a Merry go Round on a playground
And the chasing of robbers by cops
The rich man continues upon his journey
Stepping over a man on the subway stairs
Little does he know the man is dying
Left to suffer in pain and despair
Visitors they come to the city
To see the big Apple they say
They don’t want to live in the middle
Only want to enjoy the day
They, like the rich man, are sightless
For all they see are the buildings and lights
Little do they know of the horrors
That occurs during big city nights
They go back to their comfortable living
The rich man on to his corporate dreams
And to them the city is nothing less than beautiful
And perfect is all that it seems!