Private Purpose Doesn’t Feed Me

Private purpose doesn’t feed me.
It doesn’t cover me up in winter
or put together the splintered pieces of my mind.
Pray for me? Yes, but I must confess 
that those prayers do less for me than a burger
when the hunger is gnawing at my gut.

I see you and you see me,
but what I see is you flee at the sight of me.
Avoidance is your goal,
because I just don’t pass the test
of a socio-economico portfolio.

I don’t fit in with your best laid plans.
Stand too close and you’ll smell like me, look like me,
talk like I talk and walk with a limp, like a gimp
who eats in shelters and weathers reality
by living in dreams.

This just can’t be all that you have to give.
I need more.  Not just a hot air prayer. 
I need food and a friend,
a companion that can see me a ways off,
since looking at me right now
isn’t much to see.

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