Cans

Home is where the heart is

or so I have been told

but it isn't the ones out on the streets

whose hearts are empty and cold.

Hungry and not heartless

not harmful, but hurting;

so their heinous criminalisation

is more than disconcerting.

And yet they're swept away

like empty cider cans,

dropped by ones not labelled for addictions;

dropped by privileged hands.

No-one's there to pick them up,

 they all just walk straight past

for they degrade this depressing city

and are looked upon as trash.

But don't throw them away,

recycling needs some sorting;

for every sorry state we find a use

with the right supporting.

See a can? Pick it up!

Put it where it belongs -

we should be looking for the good we can do,

not ignoring all that's wrong.