Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Man on the bench

Man on the bench

By, Jack Beaudette

A wandering man his eyes a hue of loneliness

Sat next to me and I knew of his sadness

Amongst people he knew he masked his true soul

But here in the subway he was out of his role

A character completely lost and confused

Now sat here his heart obviously bruised

His hand shook and somehow he seemed to know

There was no chance of repair… he had reached a new low

Had he cultivated his own empty plot

Or had others shaped him into miseries mascot

Sitting there bleakly staring into space

I noticed a tear falling down his face

Looking around to see if any one else had seen

I sat there unnoticed as people went about their daily routine

The man was now gone and everything was clear

He was never really there, it had been my own tear

I had hoped this man wasn’t really me

But no matter what I did I was unhappy

I had over time torn every last sinew of hope

So I left the bench and continued down my lonely slope

As I walked away the man looked into my eyes

And I felt bad for him, but went on with my disguise

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