Raymond
He drowned his sadness with work and cigarettes
Only to rest to sad music and lonely nights.
His seemingly wet hair touches his eyes.
It gleams with unshed tears.
He looks hopeful and sad at the same time
The way he stares at the horizon, the end of
roads
With remorse and longing
Shatters my heart.
Why are you here alone?
Do you want to go home?
I see him every day in a nearby store
He smokes five times a day but still manage to keep his pleasant smell
I wonder how much nicotine his lung can hold, he puffs every stick like his favorite candy carelessly.
He intrigues me.
He has this pursed thick lips, shy and refusing to talk, the sound of his voice reveals its native descent.
It didn't get quite match his manly stature that speaks for the hardwork it did itself.
I wonder why people like him chose the bustling city over the serene fields of the rural
Is it because of money? self? ambition?
That he can sacrifice the warmth of home over such things.
It's a necessity I know but is the warmth of home not a necessity too?
The world is such a cruel place and in order to survive the first instinct is to fight back.
I salute him and his fight.
I wish that the time will fasten its phase so he can be finally home.
A warrior to his home.
