A street beggar beseeches,
Door after door to impetrate
for alms and charity,
His penumbra torn up
and stiched by jagged scraps
Conjure a baleful illustration
how a panhandler materializes.
There is a sloven bowl,
held in his enervated hands,
Shudders and trembles,
and makes a chink of coins.
Cracks would appear
att distance on his bare feet,
And eyes sunken deep
against his diminished fate.
Beggar is not congenital by destiny
Rather born from us
and dehumanizes his stature.