The Man In Dark Poem by Hanan Muzafar

Every night walking through,
this departed crowd;
In a frazzle leaving behind ethos.
Seeing every man in his own shiff,
with hollow eyes;
Holding sickle in one hand,
and dice in the other.
A geek prisoner fuddled and fugitive,
holding dope in one hand,
and dibble in the other:
Trying to catch the last train,
through an open bonfire country;
leaving behind bogey,
becoming a bolshevik.
A cuss hiding behind a cutesy child,
in a cusp;
Waiting for his justice in the frontier,
leaving behind his domicile,
evading his ownself.
A soldier on the front line,
fighting in a lost battle;
for eternity with an etch of memories,
and moments waiting for euthanasia:
Leaving behind his love,
becoming a man in dark.