Sleepwalker's Poem 'Branches Of Life'

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MISMATCHES...OF LIFE
The sun sets
The day ends
Hopes agonizing, dreams lost
No longer shines the eyes of the elder,
No rest for the tired worker.
No happiness on the expression of the abandoned.
No wishes in the yearning of the incarcerated.

A routine day has ended
And with it, life ceases to be lived,
Or felt,
But, that’s life.

The deafening noise hurts my ears,
I see the world in the multitude that does not stop to think,
To sense that life is to be lived.

No one sees me
I am another lost wanderer.
Like a sleepwalker dragged into this turmoil

The whistle of the guard,
The car horns,
The roar of engines,
Deafens me,
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