Pity

Tattered, weathered,

He stood up there, half drenched, half bleeding

Hungrily looking at some rotting food,

But dignity stopped him from stooping 

At his pitiful state, I felt pity 

And without knowing his story, I simply gave him some cash

He roughly grunted at me, and turned around,

No gratitude in eyes, speech, or actions 

A few days later, I found him drunken,

With a lively stock of drinks,

I found that pity had spoilt him,

And made me broke!