Poor Man and his Poem

Who would listen to him he thought.
He was no one, nothing he sought.
He was the one standing on the outside looking in.
He watched the other men.
They were all happy and bright,
but he knew he didn't have the right
to dine with them.
He was just a poor man!
What could he do with his poem?
It was just a mere song.
But it was his song;
his poem.
And it was all that he had,
besides his rag...
Still, still, he was not sad.
The poor man with his poem.
That's all he was.