A young man stands
On a crowded street
Loneliness echoes his soul.

A young woman
Cries herself to sleep
Her body shivers cold.

An old man wanders aimlessly
From place to place.

How far we’ve come in our history
A distant race.

All about the place
Tower over head
Looking warm inside.

These buildings though
Don’t have much space
Bows his head
As they divert their eyes.

An old woman
Walks to her door at night
Enters an empty house.

Draws a breath
Before the lonely light
Reminds her of her buried spouse.

He used to sit
In that old worn chair
Tell jokes of getting old.

Now she won’t sit
Anywhere near there
Or it might strangle her soul.

So many left alone
So many left forgotten
In this space that we call home
Something in the State of Denmark
Is rotten.

© Daniel Breslin