This story has a moral.

There is a boy who swings in the park,
Every single day.
Seems to have been watching you,
With every move you make.

You have seen him here before,
And he has seen you to.

He always looks so hungry,
Tired and a mess,
Looks like he needs a bath,
And to be re-dressed.

So with a sandwich in your hand,
And good intentions in your head.
You slowly head towards the child,
With expressions that can be read.

The boy seems calm when you approach,
With a solid look on his face.
You hand the boy the sandwich,
Then slowly walk away with hast.

The next day there the boy he sits,
Just across the way,
You though that he would still be there,
So you packed a sandwiches away.

You take him the sandwich,
He looks a bit less tense.
You slowly sit beside him,
With a feeling in your chest.

You ask the boy his name,
The boy says nothing back.
You slowly get up from your seat to leave,
no intention of turning back.

Then next day you see the boy,
Not out on the swings,
But you see the child's face,
On the news that new morning.

It turns out he was murdered,
No one knew just who he was.
They found him on that very swing,
Face down in the dust.

[~ people, if you have a chance to help someone, do it, you don't know how many life's you can change by something as simple as a sandwich or a blanket.~]