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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1079221
written for a contest
Dingy walls,
Dirty building,
Too many stairways
And dim lit halls;

Seedy tan suit,
Wire-rimmed glasses,
Too many empty days,
Forgotten by all.

He leaves, He returns on
Too many lifeless days;
And where does he go?
No one can really say.

He dies alone one day,
In quietness and despair;
No one really cared,
He was just the man upstairs.

Written for a contest at writing.com, March 6th, 2006
© Copyright 2006 Cynaemon (noelanicat at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1079221-The-Man-Upstairs