The Tramp Poem by Tanya Roy

Wandering,
all the town around,
fluttering,
with his unhealed wound.
Foraging for both food
and shelter;
he, helter and skelter.
Filled with inseparable
and unsurmountable loneliness and hunger,
which for him seemed to be the biggest disaster.

Though, being habituated
hoping, running,
wandering all around.
Like a deadly being;
with
people avoiding him, seeing.No body for him,
in this crowd.
No body to laugh, cry and share with;
even lost his sanity.
There left only, sorrow and guilty.

Wrinkles on faces,
got spaces.
Interminable bones could be seen,
as if eager to pierce the skin.
Partly covered with clothes,
or better, a house of moths.
All ragged and torn,
through which his body shown.
Curly black-brown, intangible hair,
and body's colour not so fair.
Hair, which never were combed,
with twist and turn,
all around
his forehead, covering his squeak little eyes,
are disturbed often by flies.
Murky body smelt,
as if it will nauseate.
Seemed furious
and nefarious.

No body to care,
about him,
though looked by pity,
by them.
They negate
his existence
and still he fight in life,
with persistence.