He Drifts
Nothing about it was bold,
walking in the cold,
chapped lips,
cracked finger tips,
no soul to be sold,
this miserable life put death on hold,
frozen walk,
and the chill right down to the bone,
always alone,
no home,
the wind strong,
hunger sat in for so long,
he didn’t know right from wrong,
through trash he sifts,
and through the cold night, he drifts.
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