Those Without AI

Upon that day, I walked away, From my home, I couldn't stay. Past the heap of what remained, Too much loss, my heart in pain.

Cast aside, no choice had I, What once was mine, now left to die. Wandering day by day, alone, Seeking anew a place unknown.

Seasons passed, the years went by, Hoping for bread, a place to lie. In winter's cold, now warm I stand, Thinking of those without a hand.

Who know not food for many days, With threadbare clothes in disarray. Resting heads on arms so thin, A box to live, a dream within.

So little I can do, it seems, But to give what little means. I remember, once like them, When gifts of mine were treasures, then.

My poem rewrote by Microsoft copilot