There was a boy named Gordon
His family had no money
He fought all day for anything
To fill his hungry belly
One fateful night he walked the streets
Searching for scraps of change
Just to buy something to eat
Or he would surely die
The rain was pounding down that night
Like ice swords from the sky
Gordon trudged through puddles like
He didn’t want his life
The hours yawned on. The boy was weak
He no longer could go on:
His hope was gone. The world was bleak.
He sheltered by some bins
The stench was overpowering
And Gordon ebbed away
It was no use. He was done in
No food again, today.
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