Darkness in the Day
						By Xavier Red Bartolome

                                  Fast cars and faceless men pass my sight
                                  I sit alone in a corner, watching idly by
                                They walk fast and strong, not hearing my cry.
                                  I am nearing my limit and soon I will die.

                                    Just then a nice man comes to my side
                                   Handing me provisions for many a night.
                                    Once again I am on my seat of blight, 
                                       Mourning my wearisome plight.

                                      I am a ghost in people’s eyes
                                    Seldom acknowledged or understood, 
                                  But very often seen beyond their hoods,
                                     Mourning my wearisome plight.

	                                           End.