Zeng Her Poet I do not know?

One Pose

They pass me each and everyday 
Without noticing a bit of me, 
Maybe a hey, hi, or hello will do 
But they’ll never ever see. 
I would look upon that whispering road 
And see my helpless friend, 
I would lean with tremendous pains 
Just to shake his honest hand. 
But I never do succeed 
Finding myself in need of help, 
Still, they would pass me by 
Not seeing of how I felt. 
As I hold my gun over my shoulder 
I’ve learn to stand so still, 
Living in one pose 
Opposing my threatening wills. 
My armors are crumbling down 
But my legs straighten quietly, 
As birds nests on my cape 
Resting quite silently. 
Sometimes they would throw trash 
Landing on my feet, 
I would yell for a seize 
But they never hear of what I speak. 
I wish to stare at the sky 
But my eyes will not move, 
I can only look upon that road 
And I cannot decide to choose. 
My hat is tipped-half in 
My fingers are dying old, 
Once I’ve pass the burning heat 
It then comes the bitter cold. 
They would never care to clean me 
Only the kindness of the rain, 
It washes down my half-tucked vest 
So that they can see my trusting name. 
I want to laugh and put on a smile 
But my face is built to fit an angry man, 
So whenever they decide to look at me 
They will never understand.

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