Stray
In the city of the living,
A place where all are breathing
Few miles away from the well-known barber shop
Down the road with an inclined slope
He laid down there underneath the bridge
Helpless, gasping for new air
The virus had long taken life from him
Only spared him his body and soul.
Dirt spread all over his body, he was a coal
He let it like that as he could not even skim.
Not to mention his hair,
as he laid there like he came out from a fridge.
Citizens had hearts of stone,
leaving him like that all alone.
Cars passing by, he was ignored,
they only laughed at the way he snored.
This had now become his life
It was his pain maker, peak of a knife.
Whenever he tried to wonder alone at night
Many knew he was up to no right,
Just trying to put food in his stomach
Before rushing to the hummock.
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