(I found this poem that I wrote in my first year of high school, it brings back memories so
thought I'd post it)
He wears what was once a fine suit. Brown, travel-worn trousers, a white, broken-buttoned
shirt, and leather shoes that look as though a hundred chalky footed mice have scrabbled
over the toes.
He walks in shadows, glaring through red rimmed eyes at the colourful swarm of shoppers.
Their eyes slide over him, uninterested and uncaring;
He has no true friends only a black dog that follows behind him wherever he goes.
He walks with his head down, ignoring everything but the sound of his own scuffed shoes
on the pavement. Memories hang heavy around his shoulders. His moods are violent. Soft,
silent depression breaks into hysterical yelling for no real reason; he grabs at his grey
The shoppers walk on, pretending he is not there
But Grief walks -
In a once fine suit, through shadow, head down, grief walks.