Nytheone Matt

Old man hobbles down a cobbled street
Knees weak bent relying on shrunken feet
Chalk white face looking more like powder
Against the luminous high-vis yellow
“Hello” I cheerfully nod my head
His eyes climb up and let me know he wishes I was dead
Before or after him
Chance of response is more than slim
Just shuffles on in a world so grim
A world full of pricks
Pricks like me