A Poem by Tim L

In a hot tightly packed room, elbows touching elbows, is one man. This man is not touching elbows with anyone. This man is old, wrinkly skin, hands unstable, and with a grey beard. Everyone knows the old man, but they want nothing to do with him.
Every week it is the same, I s**t by myself. I don't know why. I treat everyone with acts of kindness and how i want to be treated. My family left me here years ago. No one talks to me anymore. Is it because of the death of my wife? She abused me, and all I did was hold it in. Is my talking to myself the reason?
One by one by one everyone left. The old man was left in the room. The room went dark. The trustee forgot that the old man was there. The old man found a light switch close to him. After he turned on the lights, he left just as lonely as he entered he left even lonelier.

© 2013 Tim L

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Added on August 6, 2013
Last Updated on August 6, 2013
Tags: sad, lonely


Tim L
Tim L


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A Poem by Tim L