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Homeless

More often than not,
He finds himself lost,
In the middle of the day,
In the middle of a thought,
Staring blankly out of the window,
At the blue sky,
With patches of cloud.

Image of Man staring out of window at dark clouds with Blue colour

In the midst of these blank stares,
Comes dreaded thoughts,
Often leaving him wondering,
About the future,
Effect of the past.
Having fought the battles over time,
He knows there’s always a change to fight,
There’s always a chance to be a hero,
He wonders,
Or a prisoner of war!
And more often than not,
He finds himself feeling,
Like a prisoner of war,
With battle scars imprinted for life,
He finds himself locked behind bars,
Of the past that now blinds the future.

The question in his mind pinches every-time,
Will he ever have the courage again?
Will he ever find someone?
Someone who’d listen?
Someone to call, 
Home!

© onerandompoet
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