Hunger

LonesomeWanderer
Aug 8 · 1 min read

an endless deluge of incessant rain,
I sit beside the road, on the footpath
with my torn umbrella, and a torn piece of paper
words in black said I'm hungry,
that I have seen better days, yet
I find myself on the corner of this busy street
forgotten, passed over and now, wet.

the piece of paper on my hands
which told my hastily written story, now
I see the black words drip into the footpath
right before my eyes;
the rain has taken its toll on the paper.
for fleeting stares within cars
coming from the washed out windowpanes,
my declaration of hunger
must be unfathomable.

an endless deluge of incessant rain,
I sit beside the road, on the footpath.