Saturday, 4 June 2016



‘You’re dead whoever you are’
He screamed as she hobbled away
On crutches ‘you’re dead’
He repeated, dragging his tattered
Damp sleeping bag behind him.
She limped away; and from afar
Turned once more; naming the
Freezing Dublin man as a
Scumbag drug addict.

The homeless man I felt sorry for
She a stranger judging him
With passing, cruel remarks;
His life already dark; a
Desperate situation: I could
Only contemplate what her
Injuring tongue must have said
Before. Her only temporarily
On crutches.

While this so-called modern-day
Society; held him permanently
In its clutches. Angry
And hurt; he raised his fist at air;
Voice cracked and broken;
 ‘You’re fuckin dead’, were the last words
 I heard spoken. He lowering
His head. It was then I knew –
It was he who’d died
Long ago, inside.

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