The Story of Mr. Tom

There was a man called Mr. Tom
He always wore a hat.
All alone at the dinner table
Is where he always sat.

His suits of gray and shoes of black,
He never did stand out.
Not once did he whisper,
and never did he shout.

Then Mr. Tom was walking along
It was just a normal day
When a motorcyclist forgot to brake
And took Tom's life away.

The biker was in horror
As he fumbled with his phone.
But Mr. Tom had no family to tell,
For he had always been alone.

The biker and the police
Were the only ones who knew.
While other graves were covered in flowers,
Tom's was covered in dew.

Nobody ever visited,
Not one soul ever cried.
And nobody will ever remember
The day Mr. Tom died.