Just Like Me

I wrote this poem when I was seventeen. I was sitting around and thinking about the homeless people I see on the streets and I was wondering how they got there. I was wondering what made them really so different than me. And so I wrote this...

Just Like Me

I saw a man on the corner with one leg and a cane,

his clothes were dirty, his hair was filthy; he looked borderline insane.

So I drove right on past him like I usually do,

and I went and worked until the day was through.

On my way from work he was standing in the same place,

with his muddy shoes, and tattered clothes, and very dirty face.

I went to visit my mother to see what she did that day

when I got there she was in the kitchen just a cookin' away.

She said she was in a hurry, "they're are so many mouths to feed."

She said she was cooking for the homeless and those in need.

Then I remembered the guy I saw today. That dirty old man,

I started speaking down on him but she stopped me with a hand.

She asked me who I was speaking about and if he had full lips.

I said, "Yes the black man who does not walk but skip."

She said, "The one with brown eyes and wide nose."

I said, "Yes the black man with the dirty skin and tattered clothes."

She asked if his ears stuck out and if his hair was curly?

I said, "Yes, the filthy man who's on the corner early."

"So is that what you think about yourself?" my mother asked me.

She repeated the way I described him and held a mirror to me.

"Everyone makes mistakes in life you don't know what he's been through."

I looked at my mother as she said, "One wrong move and that could be you."

The next time I drove by him I slowed down just to see

and that's when I realized he looked just like me.

So now, everyone remember when you see a homeless face,

all it takes is one mistake for you to take his place.