Cardboard City Man
Let me take you to the passageway of more,
The floor so cold it thaws to words it sees,
To animate a warming breeze
that blows so cold across the truth
it focuses on the harsh realities.
He lay like angels, ashen-faced and still,
with no awareness of the moon or sun
or silver spoon denied at birth,
A cardboard city man.
His face uncovered, lost of will,
a reason to be sane, he knows tomorrow
he may never have to live this way again.
No-one will remember him, nor care why he became
a portrait of the modern world
A cardboard city man.
Copyright©brendonkent2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem