A Boy

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There stood a boy, on a street,
Begging for some change,
Passing by people spat,
Uttering all the same,

Look at the dirty child,
Where are his mom and dad?
Dirty Mexican boy,
Spaniards are so bad!

They deserted their child,
Left him here to die,
How can they live? Because
It makes me want to cry??

But crying they never do,
Nor give a second glance,
To the poor boy on the curb,
The one with tattered pants.

One of many thousands,
Of all nationalities,
Why are all the others,
With whom we disagree?