I started doing something.
I saw someone on the side of the road. They sat on the curb with their head in their hands. I couldn't tell if they were crying or not, but either way I felt bad. Nobody deserves to be brought down so low that the curb is their last resort. I was in the car, and I drove past him quite quickly.
When I got out of my car, I went to my room. I tried getting the man out of my head, but I couldn't. I was down there at one point in time. My best friend was the street, because it didn't judge me, and it only responded to me when a car went rumbling by. The more I tried to get that man out of my head, the more I thought about him. So I sat up and wrote to him.
Dear Man on the Curb,
It's ok, it'll get better. You're worth it.
Love Your Buddy.
I found him, still on the curb, and I gave him the letter. I walked away then, and I haven't seen him since.
YOU ARE READING
When I was Ten
PoetryI used to write poetry. I found a bunch of poems in my closet, and decided to post them here. Some sad, some happy. New, old, and everything in between! Just a whole lot of poems, thrown into one story.
