Fault of his own

Lost in some deep thoughts on the road he sits,
with hair gone shabby and clothes torn into bits.

A mere look can tell this fact,
that the lost glow on his face was someday intact.

He's not a beggar, but has to live like one.
Almost fainting with thirst and hunger under the bright sun.

Now questions on his condition arise,
because he seems to have a father wealthy and wise.

What was his crime? Did he kill or steal?
Or did he give some wounds that could hardly heal.

Did he lie or did he swear?
Or was he not fit for this public sphere.

Did he do a sin from which he could not redeem?
"Oh yes, he did!" His mother would scream.

What did he do that of him she got rid?
"He liked a man!" yes, that's what he did.

There! He murmurs something, maybe calling out their names
Yet he returned their love with enormous "shame".

"What will your little brother learn?
What will he do when it's his turn?"

"Out of my house, never show me your face.
He's not ours, belongs to a different race."

Now he cries and regrets his own "choice"
because it is but a "sin", a "vice".

Punished he is for the dreams he killed.
With pain and remorse his heart is now filled.

But was his love worthy of this reward?
"Yes!" They will say calling him a "coward".

Losing them was their prize for the "crime" he did.
Because he loved a man, oh yes, he did.