I want someone to need me
Or at least want me
To feel my presence
To turn to me for help
To cry on my shoulder
To ask to spend time with me
As much as I ask them

Because right now
I just feel like the unwanted friend
The one who no one really wants around
But politely puts up with

I'm the replaceable teammate
Who has useful skills
But my space could easily be filled
By a thousand other people

Everywhere I go
I am either unneeded
Unwanted, or replaceable
I am merely a spare person
Who people forgot
The moment I am beyond sight

Sometimes
a word or two
tells it all.
Sometimes
it doesn't at all!

Sometimes a wispy
cloud marks
the colossal lofty sky!
Sometimes the sun
hides behind a
splash of cloud.

Joy or grief
knows no time  
can get it in no time:
A sigh or a breath
of fresh air.
A poem is the last spare!

Two homeless in Dyatt Street
they asked me for money,
I said Sorry and wanted to leave,
but they stood in front of me,
I said: I don't know you. And they asked:
So who do you know?
I said nothing. I knew that might be it.

And I wanted to leave, I wanted them to let me go.
But I wasn't scared, no, I wasn't scared,
and they felt it, like dogs feel human's fear.

It was a one of a dark, narrow London streets,
evening, September 26th,
somehow no one was around.
They cornered me, and they could have done with me
anything they wanted. I heard them saying to each other:
Shall we **** this boy?

But they let me go,
they somehow let me go. Strange.
Maybe 'cause I wasn't scared of death,
'cause I was, kinda, one of them,
homeless, in a way,
someone who went through life's hell,
but not showing it, staying strong, brave,
hiding my secrets deep inside.
Maybe they realised
that I am one of them.

They let me go, ashamed.

Two broken teeth from a perfect cavity
Wrapped in her blue handkerchief
Jumping and skipping, defying gravity
Down the dingy lane, with an orange leaf

Bored of walking, she used the spare tyre
Cramped into it, she spun her own world
Along came the dogs, howling louder than fire
Down the dingy lane, now really wanting to hurl

After what felt like a lifetime, the spinning hushed
She stood up, looking for her hanky with eyes wild
An old man found it, grabbed her hand & her face flushed
Down the dingy lane, with missing front teeth, he smiled.

Step forward,
turn your front leg backward.
Spin into round kick inward.

Must be like a cowboy
Korean versions of a bad boy
Hidden skill shown with a coy

Jump spin into 360 kicks,
By breaking those sticks,
Then onto those bricks.

Further test your skill with an opponents,
Becoming strategic with your movements,
Bashing their heads against your martial improvements.

Taste your first defeat,
Your blood upon your lips,
Spilling from your head.

Move forward,
Onward,
Aim toward victory from inward.

For defeat is not an option,
Winning is the true completion,
Because being number one is accomplishment.

So why are you laying on your own puddle of blood,
Defeated like a soak dog,
Get up and fight!

I found a penny on the ground today.
And you better believe I picked it up.

And I held that little delicate coin in my hands so tight.
That the color started to fade away.

I was holding on so tight hoping that this penny would be the answer to my questions.
I was holding on so tight trying to make my dreams come true.

I was holding on so tight that Honest Abe himself shouted:

“Hey kid, *******!”

Couldn't you spare a glance?
Couldn't you spare a smile?
Couldn't you spare a hey?
Couldn't you spare an indicator that you acknowledge my existence?