An island of loneliness
By Highhat
- 1786 reads
I stay till the last bell
Not wanting to go
They throw me out
Having stayed too long
I’m homeless , friendless
Empty I straggle off, alone
A loner in the crowd
On the streets I wander
And won’t look you in the eye
I feel guilty without my strings
I brush the snow off and sit on a park bench
A man sits on the bench next to mine
He tells me his bicycle has been stolen
I feel sorry for him
And down another swig of my beer
Then he leaves me to sit alone
The Junkies and Prostitutes say :
‘Take no heed of her’-
I’m mad in my own quiet way
Not instigating a revolt.
So no one else notices
They walk on in the cold November snow
At the Men’s Home I wet the lips of a sleeping drunk
And sit up all night next to a secret agent
Not revealing who I am,
I am fearless and almost oblivious
Yet I am an island in a sea of souls
Hurrying home to feed their kids
Or take the night-shift
The socks in my sandals are soggy but I don’t feel the cold
I don’t wonder why either
I don’t question and I don’t demand
But someone ships me off
And eventually I leave the streets
Hopefully never to return
To that island of loneliness
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Comments
Hi Pia, this piece of
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A stunning poem, you've had
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there are a lot of homeless
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I, too, like the imagery of
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I’m mad in my own quiet
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I have only just read this
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