Rhetoric streams from a soul
Burdened on the sidewalk,
Words bounce through the sky,
We pass him by,
Just stare,
Words fly up in the air,
But where do they go?
Just passing through,
To him they mean something,
To those of us that pass,
It’s all rhetorical phrases,
Puzzle pieces of a life
Not known by many...
By himself, does he know
What he is trying to say?
Passing him on the streets,
We stare blankly,
As this man stumbles,
Clothes ***** and voice
Broken and burdened,
A lone dialectical dance
In the heat of a summer day,
Releasing his verbs,
“What is he trying to say?”
We pass him by.
We live our lives.
We all have our stories.