A Write A-101
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An observation, a witness if you will.
I knew a wayward man;
His eyes shadowed with defeat.
His sunken lips and hollow cheeks,
mapping his journey.
He cannot reach, nor walk a step,
his will has met it's match.
Lost to his own deceit,
to liars and ransoms!
His life disguised by tainted thoughts,
and to his world he let.
A barrower, a beggar, a thief,
he challenges for an allotted fee.
His knees buckle!
His weighted heart!
A dirty dollar, a euro, a yen,
it fits the same in pockets of men.
The soles of his feet burn,
the scortched path before him, is churned.
Copyright © Karen Van Wyk | Year Posted 2012
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