He’s walking through the empty streets,he doesn’t say a word, He wants to cry,but he doesn’t look hurt... He just keeps walking,he doesn’t notice where he goes, He’s slowly forgetting everything,his friends and foes, He doesn’t know where this started and where it will end, And always wondered exactly why he was sent, What would he achieve? What was his goal? What can he reach with all the luck he stole? He’s walking through the empty streets,he doesn’t say a word, He wants to cry,but he doesn’t look hurt... His anger’s getting worse by the day, But he still doesn’t know how to get it out some way, He can’t control his feelings,he feels empty inside, He doesn’t feel affected by terror,pain and fright, His eyes are getting used to all the violent aggression, No matter how hard the torture is,he won’t make a confession, He’s walking through the empty streets,he doesn’t say a word, He wants to cry,but he doesn’t look hurt...
fantastic poem man... I like the raw feeling you get when reading it. it's very real.. not brilliant in like pentameter or form, but I never cared for that english bull**** anyways. that's why I like it so much. great analogy with the empty streets. I feel like the guy in the streets is me... well done and keep it up, saurabh
