Watching, watching, clouds slip by the moon
Shining, shining, bright pinholes appear too soon.
Groping, groping, homeless he walks alone
Talking, talking, is his presence known?
Gently, gently, cool breezes kiss his face
Gazing, gazing, he screams-where’s my place?
Hunching, hunching, crouched and slumped in the door
Holding, holding his can out asks for more. 
Walking, walking, the strangers pass him by
Dying, dying, he lifts his face and questions why. 

Author: Katestrawberry

I am a published author and writer/editor available for hire. I create abnormal, strange, and sometimes slightly erotic poetry. Crazy Girl. Creative Genius.

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