There he stands by the side of the road,
Arms full of pictures and certificates, yet with his head bowed,
Blinking back tears, he waits for the light to turn red,
Hoping to God someone would believe him this time instead.
A car stops and he knocks on the window,
Knowing if this one man helped in any way, he would be his hero,
He tells his tale and hopes against hope,
But frustration is his only ally, how can he cope?
Light turns green, and the cars move on,
He dejectedly moves to the side wishing someone would believe that this is not a con,
He wishes he was not so helpless,
He wishes someone would help him in this hour of distress.
As the light turns red, he moves again,
From car to car, he is turned away, yet he moves without showing his pain,
As he knocks another window,
His hopes are nearer to zero.
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