there was something about the way he looked,
it told me everything i needed to know.
his eyes were always dull despite the large smile he put on display,
the jokes that came out of his mouth never matched the tone he said them in.
he stood tall with such a formal posture but chin down to the floor,
as if he could not meet eyes with anybody in the room.
his shirt and pants were always clean but his shoes were always worn out,
i could tell he ran a lot from himself.
there was also the way he walked,
as if everywhere he went was of the same importance.
nothing amused him but he pretended to be amazed with everything,
it's like he practiced his remarks with his reflection,
and still not be able to look at it.
every bite he swallowed and never enjoyed,
and every drink was just that unless it was whiskey.
poor soul,
i saw the despair in his life just by the way he looked
and i carried on,
a stranger he'd never see again,
knowing his darkest secrets,
to be cursed with the knowledge of someone's else's suffering.
YOU ARE READING
Feelings On Paper
Poetrypoems and feelings of a new chapter in the story we call life; welcome to a journey of emotions going into adulthood 2020-June2023
