Broken Man
There’s a broken man standing at the side of the road.
He’s looking this way, but I keep my eyes down.
Hoping he doesn’t put a spell on me.
He’s looking at me.
I’m hoping it is my fortune he cannot see.
The man was once great, a savior, a father.
But now he’s lost and on his own.
Now he’s below me, and the rest of society.
As they’ve all told me.
I walked by and saw voodoo in his eyes.
His red, swollen, tired eyes.
He put his hand out, but I just walked by.
He didn’t scream, he didn’t shout.
He sat on the cold wet floor, that broken man, and went on as he did every other day.
I saw him again, as he wandered without purpose.
Like a ghost, he had nothing except what he wore.
And all he wore was his woe.
And yet this broken man never struck me as sad.
I’d walk by, and as he’d throw at me his infinite voodoo, I felt his sympathty.
One day I stopped, and starred.
He was confused, and looked away, no one looked at the broken man.
I saw the cracks in his exterior, I saw the color of his eyes.
This was the ultimate enemy, the man who felt all he could.
This man who froze, and coughed, and went on without meaning.
I always wondered why he kept on going, what hope this broken man had of a better life.
The question ate away at me and sucked the life out of me.
And then one day, I ran to the old man, and I had to say to my companion of years without a name.
‘Why do you keep living so?’
And he smiled, but didn’t answer.
And this time it was him, who walked away from me. The bigger man.
So I waited, as he had every day, at the side of the road.
And when he came back he said,
‘Because neither one of us knows any better.’
‘But you do, you had so much more.’
‘But I don’t anymore…’
I opened my mouth to protest, why had he given up and let himself deteriorate.
‘I’m just another Broken man.’ He smiled, ‘Of no importance to you, or anyone else who passes me by.’
And inside, my heart shriveled, and cracked.
I walked away that day.
But came back the next, I the broken man, and him the superior.
He wasn’t there.
I asked and I asked and all everyone knew was that he went for a walk.
2 weeks later he was found floating face down in the lake.
In his jacket they found a letter that said,
‘We’re all broken men and there’s nothing we can do. When one is split in 2, we’re left to choose a life anew… I couldn’t choose so I lived on in purgatory, but there’s only so much time for me and you.’
He’s looking this way, but I keep my eyes down.
Hoping he doesn’t put a spell on me.
He’s looking at me.
I’m hoping it is my fortune he cannot see.
The man was once great, a savior, a father.
But now he’s lost and on his own.
Now he’s below me, and the rest of society.
As they’ve all told me.
I walked by and saw voodoo in his eyes.
His red, swollen, tired eyes.
He put his hand out, but I just walked by.
He didn’t scream, he didn’t shout.
He sat on the cold wet floor, that broken man, and went on as he did every other day.
I saw him again, as he wandered without purpose.
Like a ghost, he had nothing except what he wore.
And all he wore was his woe.
And yet this broken man never struck me as sad.
I’d walk by, and as he’d throw at me his infinite voodoo, I felt his sympathty.
One day I stopped, and starred.
He was confused, and looked away, no one looked at the broken man.
I saw the cracks in his exterior, I saw the color of his eyes.
This was the ultimate enemy, the man who felt all he could.
This man who froze, and coughed, and went on without meaning.
I always wondered why he kept on going, what hope this broken man had of a better life.
The question ate away at me and sucked the life out of me.
And then one day, I ran to the old man, and I had to say to my companion of years without a name.
‘Why do you keep living so?’
And he smiled, but didn’t answer.
And this time it was him, who walked away from me. The bigger man.
So I waited, as he had every day, at the side of the road.
And when he came back he said,
‘Because neither one of us knows any better.’
‘But you do, you had so much more.’
‘But I don’t anymore…’
I opened my mouth to protest, why had he given up and let himself deteriorate.
‘I’m just another Broken man.’ He smiled, ‘Of no importance to you, or anyone else who passes me by.’
And inside, my heart shriveled, and cracked.
I walked away that day.
But came back the next, I the broken man, and him the superior.
He wasn’t there.
I asked and I asked and all everyone knew was that he went for a walk.
2 weeks later he was found floating face down in the lake.
In his jacket they found a letter that said,
‘We’re all broken men and there’s nothing we can do. When one is split in 2, we’re left to choose a life anew… I couldn’t choose so I lived on in purgatory, but there’s only so much time for me and you.’