Fatague

The mercy for those
Who have loved
On dirty streets failing fatigue
Runs in its course
Is there pity
From those watching
The pain, just a feeling.
Like a dull dagger
While resting.
My throat is strained
there I sit, Speechless
hand put fourth
Begging with those who have nothing.
Confused where does the road fork
Darkness hide direction
The light of the moon speaks,

poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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