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In the tempest of the social gust,
aimlessly aiming an arm to grab on,
thrashing and thrashing with tiring thrusts,
the Loner; the skyline beneath the blinding sun.
With face of smiles, with teeth of ivory,
a heart of tears and mind of sorrow,
screaming for agony in the silence of cacophony,
the Loner; the forgotten bird in the baobab hollow.
A walking silhouette in flesh’s shadow,
heard not listened, seen not noticed,
with pains of heart that cease to go,
the Loner ; the noise of market in silenced grave ease.
The living thread of life long gone,
existence is all in daily fight,
and meanings of all to shreds is torn,
the Loner; the departing heel in the shivering night.

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