Heads Down

I walk,

All bowed,

And head down,

Meander

slowly

round town,

No smiles

no grin,

Just a frown,

Staring at

floors my

head’s down.

 

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Me

Metallic tasting tongue,
Cracks as words fall foul,
Whilst lines on foreheads all align,
Perfect a fetching scowl,
Eyes run red, and nearly closed,
A cynicism grin,
Promises made in words,
Betrayed by lips too thin,
Aged and weathered by the World,
Embittered by its folk,
Life too heavy load to lift,
Strangled in its choke,
Tales told by the sorry face,
Held bowed for all to see,
Broken in many a place,
That man, he’s list, he’s me.