An old man in a young man’s shoes,

Stares out on a new day,

Nobody comes to check on him,

To see if he’s okay,

Tired through his exertions,

His fingers twisted ills,

Doctors offer nothing,

But perhaps too many pills,

His tears fall upon foul clothes,

For now there is no need,

His pride is gone, his life has shone,

His heart begins to bleed,

Yet it’s not too late to find a way,

In life, for him to cope,

As long as he has one small thing,

An undying hope.

Very Much Alone

We’re sickened,
Illness plagued,
Lost souls,
I champion wellbeing,
Listen to woes,
And feel pain,
But for me,
Who is there,
Who helps the helper,
Here’s who,
Not you,
Nor brethren,
With tables turned,
Bridges are burned,
We are left smouldering,
Vast effigies,
Slag heaps,
It is in these times,
Our hopes are slaughtered,
We’re left scarred,
Very much alone.

I don’t belong

I don’t belong,
Not here,
Least not near,
I’m different,
Am different,
There’s a line,
I’m so far over it,
There was a point I did,
Fit in,
That point, the line,
Long since erased,
Could I return,
To normality,
Do I want to be normal,
Boring, mundane, predictable,
I just don’t want to be,
Different, odd, a freak,
That sense of being lost,
Never goes away,
I look inward,
See a dying heart,
A lost, sorry, soul,
My reflection on inspection hides the truth,
I look well,
Oh well,
What does the mirror know,
Poor show,
I stand like the proverbial weed in the concrete,
Nobody is quite sure how,
I can’t understand why,
A life in a cold grey world,
But I’m still there,
Two fingers to normality,
I may not be alive,
But I ain’t dead.
I don’t belong.