A beggar's account

Sober and thirsty
With flaccid muscles,weary looks
His tattered clothes resemble a crook
Distinct smelly,disheveled hair
Still he ain't drasty

With heavy steps
Begs for alms at each doorstep
It ain't that he's just refused
Made fun of,rather abused
With dreary looks,he still stands amused

Yet
He can't fight back
Self-respect,he's supposed to lack
Can't hum with the wind
To the warmth of the sunshine,he's blind

With so hard-earned bread
For him,every cent counts
At times,a tear or two he does shed
Thinking of those numerous accounts
Of miseries untold,dreams unfulfilled

Realizes the futility of his existence
A picture of human persistence
With an empty bowl as thy sole comrade
His journey seems to have just begun
With each rising sun