Lonely

Morning bench where a lonely person sit's,
Hearing the sounds of the city,
The rawring of the train,
People passes by paying no attention,
Sitting there staring out into the abyss,
But the people not caring about anything,
Only their self,
Not knowing the person sitting on the bench is dead.

Josh Boffa
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 09/01/2022

Poet's note: Loneliness Dying Alone People Not Caring
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