The Destitute Of Oyingbo Poem by David Elliot Toju

The chilly morning breeze bites on his hard, tough skin
'Oh it's morning' he says to himself
As he arises from his burdensome slumber
Even as the early morning sun ushers him into another unhappy day
The horns of cars and the smoke from trucks
Remind him of where he had just made his abode
On the hard, cold steps of a shop along the road
He can't cry, he can't smile, he won't even feel sad about it
He just dusts himself, washes his mouth and embraces what fate
That ugly damsel has kept for him
Passersby are unperturbed by his predicament
He is seen as a menace to some, while others see him as a suspect
Others still see him as a slave
But he is what he is
Another human living in the rough side of life