They see the stones
implanted in his face.
The wear and the tear
swooning in his place.

And he sat there
strumming his six string.
Looking for some
spare salvation.

Yet people passed him by
though he begged and he pleaded.
Love was all he needed.

A little hope,
a little care.
But nothing of the sort
was he given.
He was nothing.

Little did they know
he was testing them.
It was all a plot,
he sought to find
the purest of mankind.

So watch out.
Next time you see
a broken soul,
pick it up.
Nurture it,
and bring it
back to life.

You never know who's watching.