Darkness in the Day
By Xavier Red Bartolome
Fast cars and faceless men pass my sight
I sit alone in a corner, watching idly by
They walk fast and strong, not hearing my cry.
I am nearing my limit and soon I will die.
Just then a nice man comes to my side
Handing me provisions for many a night.
Once again I am on my seat of blight,
Mourning my wearisome plight.
I am a ghost in people’s eyes
Seldom acknowledged or understood,
But very often seen beyond their hoods,
Mourning my wearisome plight.
End.