Another Part of the City

In another part of the city,

Where I never ever go,

The streets were far from pretty

And much worse that you might know.

 

The poverty was glaring,

The folks down at their heels

And, although I wasn’t staring,

They were burdened by ordeals.

 

Some were sprawled out in the gutters;

Others shuffled slowly by.

Though I couldn’t hear their mutters,

I could see the reasons why.

 

From my neighborhood, two miles

Is the distance, I would say,

Which holds separate all their trials

And keeps fear of that at bay.