From where he came from, no one knew.
He always wore a troubled look on his face.
He had the aura of loneliness around him.
All days he sat quietly at the bus stop.
He wore almost tattered clothes.
He looked underfed and on the verge of a breakdown.
Yet no one ever looked his way.
It was almost as if he was invisible.
Oh world! Oh world! Oh world!
What has become of thee?
No one takes time to even know their neighbours.
No one cares about the homeless.
No one cares about the old.
No one cares about anything!
So into self are the people of this generation.
Oh wicked generation, arise and learn to love!
Ron
budd
Peace, love and blessings,
John Michael
Sandie