On my way home I saw him,
a tubby man with blazing face,
his face was gnarled and twisted,
his nose, seemed to have been pulped,
a few times too many,
sat on the floor outside the station,
everyone else looked at him as if he's discarded,
a piece of  simple trash,
he talked to me,
he said,
you been to work today?
he looked hungry,
not sure what he was actually hankering for,
I couldn't see a heart inside,
his eyes blankly struggled to even raise a smile,
he looked like he wanted to be in the pink,
but he was red,
more read than a cheap tabloid,
seen by many passers by,
without an ounce of attention.
(C) Livvi