THE COLD WITHIN

Author Unknown

Six humans trapped by happenstance in the bleak and bitter cold,

Each one possessed a stick of wood, or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs, the first man held his back,

For of the faces round the fire, he noticed on was black.

The next man sat in tattered clothes, he gave his coat a hitch,

Why should his log be put to use, to warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought of the wealth he had in store,

And how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor.

The next man sitting cross the way, saw one not of his church,

And couldn't bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch.

The black man's face bespoke revenge, as the fire passed from his sight.

For all he saw in his stick of wood was a chance to spite the white.

Their logs held tight in death's still hands was proof of human sin

They didn't die from the cold without....

They died from the cold within.