A day beneath of steam and steel,
Carrying deeds the labor is real;
Callous streets and busy meal.
In days when trouble occur,
Dent by pain and vision blur,
Easy comes the harder to concur.
Nestle on the rough, dirty ground,
Teeter without a single word or sound,
Hearing, nothing, alone, he’s bound.
And time, time again, hand arrives to lend,
Pleasant eyes of a mother to contend,
Part of metal, replace by flesh she rend.
Engage to risen, his smile seem distant,
Next to a deceitful, ugly lies before instant,
Send into an honest silent of cheer he chant.
Art: Accident by Jan-Wes