Poor man

He sang a sad tune,
that never did end,
repeating itself over and over again.

He sang from his heart,
he sang from his soul,
trying to get back what his wicked mind stole.

The people would watch as they walked on by,
not giving him time even when he would cry.

But the song that he sung brought tears to my eyes,
there was nothing I could do as I watched him demise.

I found myself in the end humming the same catchy tune,
only when people weren't around to catch along too.

I wondered if I was going to be just like him,
singing alone to a song that never did end.

I hoped and I prayed that I'd soon forget,
the day that I watched this man and I wept.