Tired Eyes
I walk.
Along the way, I find myself.
A little worn, somewhat forlorn
Looking sorry, I think…
And very much alone.
I am torn,
Caught between care and pity
A rush of compassion?
I shudder…
Perhaps it's disdain.
Am I to blame,
I mutter - feeling breath hasten
As I turn askance
Only to see my own self’s
Appeal gaze back plaintively at me
Through his silent
Tired eyes.
No, this cannot be the way
This should not be the path
I might have turned right
He could have looked left
Now, hastening past
I wonder at how