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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1851203-Hermit
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by Tim Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1851203
The account of one old man's life.
I wish I could tell you I hold wisdom;
Ha, my wisdom is like ash.
Perhaps you'd assume I offer freedom;
Psh, freedom? That's a gas.

If you saw me you'd notice i'm downcast;
My eyes scan the hard concrete.
Assume that it's from some demented past;
Yes, my childhood screams defeat.

Writing is my only escape from here;
I expect nothing is seen.
No more do I produce tears;
My heart is rotten and mean.

When spotted please lend me a kind favor;
A pat on the back or hug.
For i've lived for so long with no neighbor;
I feel atlas has shrugged.
© Copyright 2012 Tim (gritcase at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1851203-Hermit