Who's Mad? Poem by Hardik Vaidya

He was half naked, had lost his shirt,
seemed clueless about himself, covered in dirt.
Bending down was tugging at the cobble stones,
trying to pry them out, and search for lost souls.
He was relentless, even opened the conrete man hole,
reached in deep with one hand, to dig out his lost cause.
He wandered on the street, people looked at him with eek,
he looked as if he was there and they were on the streets.
To him it were his forest, he were a animal
the rest of us were just tourists, walking in comical.
only a few of us spotted him,
he with his spots, melted in his thoughts,
and like the myna in the trees,
hid like a poem not wanting to be.