Poverty

Eyes set in sore depression. A frown crinkled his forehead. Puffy bags beneath his unhappy piercing eyes. Sitting on the side of the road, he wore ragged old clothes and looked as if he hadn't had a shower in weeks. No shoes on, just his bare unclean feat. I can't imagine the quench of thirst that he desires, or the hunger he is facing. All i wanted to do was wrap my arms around his delicate fragile body frame. It wouldn't matter if he had done something morally wrong to deserve this utter treatment, but no one should have to bare with this. Yet, he is only 1 of 925 million living in abject poverty. He is a lost soul that does not deserve this.