Long coat.
Shades of midnight.
A silhouette under blinding streetlight.
Walks slowly as the drizzle begins,
the old man lost in a world that doesn't spin,
that doesn't sing, isn't in tune with him.
The man in black skulks around,
the streets he prowls,
barely making a sound.
Under darkest night he scowls
at the roaring rain as it pours down
and the wicked wind as it howls.
Talks to himself, a battle in his head.
Animated conversations with ghosts he's come to dread.
His arms flap and flail,
like he's being directed by a puppeteer
telling some dark and harrowing tale.
The man in black, can't turn back,
he is on his path, trying to avoid its cracks.
Old face haggard and worn,
hides his form behind the darkness forlorn.
Walks with a limp, and whisky addled stumble.
Mind lost in his world as it crumbles.
The rains tumble, and puddles emerge,
he wishes for a flood to come and submerge.
Thank you for reading,
please take a look at my latest book on Amazon.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B098GQSK46
and follow my Facebook page for more
www.facebook.com/wordsandfluff
Peace, Love and Poetry
Kyle
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