A poem about a homeless man
|MAN OF THE STREETS
Hey old man, I've seen you 'round,
lurking in alley ways, and drinking in doorways.
So tell me, what's your story?
Why are you living on the streets?
Don't hide your face now, I've already seen too much.
Maybe it's true that no one ever tried to see,
as trapped in an invisible void, life passed you by.
Yet here I am, trying to see.
Now you're wondering if you're anyone.
And if you are - then why do passers by, walk by?
Wielding unregistering eyes, that burn with their intensity.
Leaving their branding mark upon your soul -
you are no one,
"you're no one, you're no one" whisper the insistent voices,
that have gathered inside your lonely head.
Confusion's you, and you're a mess.
You've told yourself ' I can't' instead of 'I can'.
As you take up residence inside your now screaming mind.
Your face is an empty shell that you hide behind.
But old man listen, a no one, you shall NEVER be.