Passing a lonely, asleep town,
I pull my window down to breathe.
To welcome the palling chill,
The unearthly hours, dead of the night.

The night so silent and calm,
The cold and silence, almost dreading.
Turn my head and glance around,
To find a pair of grey helpless eyes.

A child of about eight or so.
Laying on the pavement, wide awake.
Covered in torn large tee with patches,
Patches that depict his broken life.

A chilling and unforgiving cold night,
The blues of life appear before my eyes.
The body shivers and shudders,
In the lacerated tee-shirt and stolen pants.

Harsh storm brews in his grey eyes.
Body, malnourished, decaying and weak.
Looking to the sky hoping for a rescue,
From the sins he did not commit.

Resorts to a fetus position, balling up,
To prevent the cold from burning him.
Teeth chatter and wind blows fervently,
Fog covers the only radiation, from the moon.

Unkempt hair and hollow cheeks,
Gets his tiny hands together to rub,
Only to place them on his empty stomach.
Turns to the other side and cries, defeated.

Passing a lonely, asleep town,
I pull my window up to suffocate,
Driving right ahead and away,
From the harsh realities I can't erase.

Bring my hands to my face and,
Cry to myself loud and silent.
Suffocate and lose my mind,
Drive away and ahead, guilty.

Swerve violently and make a turn back,
To find a pair of grey helpless eyes.