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.