Homeless
no one exists
integrity confined to
the hint of a dream
like excitement
a fading wisp of smoke
a body that lingers
like the end of a season
rusted hues, dry and shadowed
overlooking cracked glass
scraps of dignity
empty into a paper bag
identity washes down
and away with a chaser
the truth screaming
of dearth and a wasteland
knows no today
let alone tomorrow
almost invisible
a world below the surface
runs parallel to bustle
runs over the ledge
no one notices.
Copyright © Roseann Geiger | Year Posted 2017
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