Worries of Manus Hu’s, a bridge Builder

Dear men, women. Dear parents. Dear Children. Dear friends. Dear souls of all kinds:
I have something hard in my heart, my body. It’s tearing me apart; eating me alive.
I beg you and dearly plead to let it be, but first I would have to introduce myself:
My last name is Manus. First name is Hu. I arrive from not to far from here.
I came to say, to ask, to understand, why these worries in me.
I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. And that’s all because of you.
I look at you and see how your thoughts are swayed.
My glances simply disappear in the fog,
And I can’t see my bridges anymore.
I have to thank you for that. You.
You just can’t let it be, can you,
To hate, the less fortunate.
Change yourselves.
Help me out,
And,
I’ll help you!
Listen! Stay here!
I have to beg you again.
Don’t destroy this bridge of mine.
The strenuously  created connection,
Through total dedication of some souls,
And more importantly through bodily burden.
Costing many tears, lots of pain. And slain dignities,
Through lack of consideration, which all have to bear.
Many wars, many ideas, also many book that can’t teach.
Hunger. Distress. There are mothers with no milk! Children with no bred!
You have to change, thus have to realize, that they also exist and breathe like you.
Same world, same continent, same country, same province, same city, even same part of it.
We even sit in the same little crumbling boat. Don’t you see that? Please throw one look to the side.