• A Stolen Life

A stolen morsel, more precious than gold,
Grasped by fingers both weary and cold.
A thief of necessity, not of desire,
Driven by hunger, not by the fire.

The bread, though stale, carries a taste
Of fleeting relief in a world of haste.
The shirt, though torn, becomes a shield,
Against the chill the night does wield.

In shadows deep where stories hide,
A quiet plea, no place for pride.
Each stolen item, a silent cry,
For justice unseen, as the nights drift by.

A child shivers beneath the moon,
His lullaby sung by the wind's cold tune.
The stars bear witness to hearts undone,
To battles fought, but never won.

Yet amidst the thefts, a light remains,
A stranger's gift to ease the pains.
A loaf of bread, a blanket warm,
Kindness breaking the darkest storm.

There is no price to hunger's woe,
No cost for warmth when cold winds blow.
There is no price to kindness shown,
A gift that grows when freely sown.

So judge not those who take to live,
But ponder instead what you can give.
For in the end, we're all the same,
Seeking shelter from life's cruel game.

• The Weight of Mercy

The stolen crumbs are a heavy load,
Each bite a debt on a rugged road.
For hunger asks with silent plea,
To strip away one's dignity.

The world may turn with hardened eyes,
Quick to condemn, slow to realize,
That beneath the act, there lies despair,
A soul still yearning for someone to care.

The cold bites deeper than winter's frost,
But harsher still is the kindness lost.
A fleeting glance, a hand withheld,
A heart unyielding, compassion expelled.

Yet amidst the night, a candle glows,
A warmth within that mercy sows.
The baker gives a loaf to spare,
The tailor leaves a coat on the chair.

For what is life without a hand,
To lift the fallen, to help them stand?
The bread may vanish, the shirt may fray,
But kindness lingers, lighting the way.

• A Promise to the Shadows

To the thief who steals, a vow I make,
To offer freely, for your sake.
No lock shall bar the hungry door,
No judgment pass on the desperate poor.

For every morsel stolen at night,
Shall be replaced by the morning light.
And every life, once lost to despair,
Will find a beacon in someone who cares.

Let us weave a world where none must steal,
Where broken hearts find time to heal.
For in the end, we all belong,
To the same great tale, the same old song.

And if one falls, we all do too,
So lend a hand, and see it through.
A stolen morsel, a borrowed name,
A chance for grace, and none to blame.

• The Echo of Generosity

Through alleys dark and streets of stone,
The whispers of kindness have quietly grown.
A loaf passed hand-to-hand unseen,
A coat laid gently where tears have been.

The thief’s burden, though harsh and cruel,
Can soften when hearts are the guiding...