Raw

The sun is shining,

Breeze is warm.

The streets are busy,

That’s the norm.

But on the path,

A guy’s asleep.

His few belongings

In a heap.

 

The world continues,

Cars drive past.

And yet, for him,

The die is cast.

Somehow, he’s lost

This endless game.

Does anyone still

Know his name?

 

He had a mother,

Father too.

Where are they now,

His childhood crew?

He lives now

In a silent place –

Invisible,

Yet in disgrace.

 

How did he get here?

Where to go?

Does anyone

Still care or know?

So, what’s the answer?

What to do?

As I walk past,

I wish I knew.

 

Stephen Tomkins
5 March 2020
Los Angeles

2 thoughts on “Raw

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