I trudge through this moss-covered path made with fractured stone.
Where hearts are indurated, cold as bone.
The world gyrates ruthlessly, devoid of any grace,
And the exiled kindness veils its swollen face.

The footpaths are packed with those neglected, their tears unseen.
Their broken hearts and their shattered dreams.
Stray dogs with pleading eyes, their bodies mere skeletons draped in tattered fur.

Oh, how did we come to live this way?
Where empathy and love have gone astray?
The beggars shiver in the tremendous rain.
Each drop a tear resulting from their silent pain.
Their eyes, so dull with strife,
Reflect the truth of this ramshackled life.
The sick who cannot find relief,
In every breath, they cradle grief.
No coin, no cure, no saving grace,
Yet strength remains firm upon their faces.

The old, neglected by their kin,
In lonely chambers, their worlds grow thin.
Their stories fade, and their hearts decay.
As the love they proferred is ruthlessly stripped away.

In every stray that cannot speak,
I hear the voice of those who seek—
A simple touch of love, a mere meal, and a home,
A place where they're not abandoned and left alone.

But I, though just a single spark,
Shall light the way within the dark.
To mend the hearts that split in two,
To lift the fallen and guide them through.
For what is life if not to give?
To help another soul, another dream to live?
If we forget and if we don’t care,
Then what remains but blank despair?

The ties that bind us, weak yet strong,
Remind me where we all truly belong.
A hand to lift, a word to heal,
To show the world that love is real.
And if my voice can reach at least one ear.
Then perhaps we can terminate this fear.
For in the act of love, we're free—
Mending the broken hearts and restoring lost humanity.
To love, to heal, to give with grace,
And find ourselves in every face.