The smokey haze,
The sullen phase.
He stands their in the darkness of his own bloodied sins.
Another challenge he will never win.
His large feet stomp on the wet ground.
All around him are silent sounds.
Somebody, saw his shadowy figure.
That was his only signature.
Now changing lanes on a crowded street.
The playlist still lingers on repeat.
A ghostly figure stands amongst the rubble stones.
Sometimes, it's to late when your alone.
Counting the hours as they pass on by.
Waiting dangerously, because someday, someone will have to die.
©terrylin53
T