I, too, sing America.

I am the unfortunate,
The ill-clothed and unwanted,
Looked down upon by my fellow men.

My survival is held at the mercy
Of a coin-filled hand,
Generosity,
And an uplifting smile
From the few who care.

My roof, my only shelter,
Is an old and battered cardboard box.
Like a vulture,
I scavenge my food from
Trash cans,
Abandoned tables,
As I enjoy old leftovers.
What was once anothers trash
Is now my treasure.

You walk by,
Eyes averted,
Concerned only with your own well-being.
But I am determined.
I know, as I feed off
The kindness of others,
That I will succeed.
I will rise up,
And become a worthwhile life.

I, too, am America.