The Man Called Animal

I play the lottery
Never lucky, as my one and two’s vanishes
There into the production of mastered numbers
Another card, same story
I cringed the paper, free throw into the garbage bin
Walking on, thinking why I’m so unworthy
To receive the millions, my wants and desires
Nothing left but my empty pocket

The man on the street saw me
He was called the animal, I think
I wonder who looked at him and give him his name
Was it because of his worn out clothes
Or maybe his overgrown beard?
But in reality, hair is hair, as skin is to skin
He met me, looked at me
Saw me at my down times
With a voice, he asked “I need a smoke”
I asked why?
“My lungs need cleansing from the dirt,” he replies
“Here, take this pack,” I say
He says thanks and says
“Give me a flash light”
I ask why
“Cos I need the light to move through these tunnels”
“Here you go, take this flash light”
He smiles, and tells me I’m a good man
“How do you know? I have sin on my clothes
Don’t you see them?”
I see them, all of them, he says
But I also see your soul
That which you have repaired
With light, you cleansed your mind
Placed your soul in a zen of peace
“I don’t understand,” I tell him
You will one day

He never repaid me
I never saw the animal again
But I remember his words
I soaked it into my voice
In peace, I found those one or two’s
Not in papers
In my quest to live and find his words
The one he gave to me
So I say to myself
My luck has runneth over
For my faith is all I need
To receive, I will give back these ones or two’s
To the hands of lives who thirst
Not to systems that eat and never purge back soul

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