Blue Despair

By Adama Bojang

We dont know the story behind his blue stature.

His eyes, sunken behind the leathery cloak

Of a skin. The hackneyed clothing hangs down

By thread, beckoning for spare change.


He sits in destitute, his body cramped

And beaten down like the untuned guitar he holds close.

As you look deeper, the skeletal frame shows

Evidence of days without food.


And if he lifted his head, you would see the horrors of the world:

Your sister robbed

With a pistol to her head,

A family being torn apart by immigration,

An orphan, crying on the window sill

Waiting for a so-called parent who’s forgotten about

The child she’d left in the street.


Keep looking you might hear the sweet

Sounds of hope. No more despair,

No hunger,

No misery.

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