Rugged he walked along the filthy pavements at the streets. He was under booze. While walking you couldn’t differentiate between his right and left leg.
Foot under no shoes. His heels having cracks. Almost scratching the rough tiled pavements. He is said to be mad. Others say he was cursed and some he was witched.
Nobody wants to walk along with him. All because he is feared. He might take to heels with your handbag and so its better to walk past him responsibly.
He is approached by someone. He sheds tears and says no one wants to hear my story. Alas this person ain’t that bad. He has a story behind him. He has a story that needs to be written so that people don’t treat him like that along the streets.
His age is in third floor. I mean he is thirty plus old. Looks like he has a family. But he is forgotten by his own people. He eats from the bins and at times jeopardized from the bins. Sleeps on the rusty dusty trams under no blanket. How sad he shed tears. He says that the streets never chooses anyone even if denied or forgotten by your own family. But he can’t survive.
He has a story and no one wants to listen to it. But hey here it comes.
I once was a….