Pigeon

I am a pigeon in New York.
People keep away,
They think I am dirty…..
I am not.
My dirty greasy gray
Color keeps most people away.
The old women throw bread while
Men turn their heads.
Children chase me to a far off place
To the poor and needy people I see everyday.
They have the same feelings as I,
Dirty,
Begging.
People keep away
As we lay on the bench alone.
But we know as the pain grows
That we may be dirty on the outside
But on the inside
We are people, birds, living creatures,
All
Who should be
Treated equally.

                                 Ben A.