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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
About the horrors of living on a pension by yourself.

Submitted: January 21, 2011

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Submitted: January 21, 2011



A strangely lonely man
Living a strange and lonely life,
No children he can call his own
No woman he can call his wife.

Mired by the storms of life
Back bent as he staggers along,
Just trying to see his time out
All dreams and hopes have gone.

A strange and awful life
Lived by a strangely lonely man,
Just trying to find a way out
Struggling on as best he can.

A strange and awful living
In this land where hope has flown,
Where only losers come to stay
And only suffering is known.

A lonely street off
Where lonely losers plod along,
Where hopes and dreams and promises
No longer there belong.

In the western streets of
The people find living very hard,
By life’s empty, broken promises
The innocent have been scarred.

No-one hopes or dreams here
All dreams of hope have flown,
Heartaches, misery, suffering
Are all these people know.

Losers walk these lonely streets
Where winners never stray,
Where all the hopes and promises
At last have blown away.

So a man whose life is shattered
Valiantly struggles along,
Though his dreams of better times
Have all but surely gone.

© Copyright 2011
Philip Roberts

© Copyright 2017 Philip Roberts. All rights reserved.

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