He wanders through the streets alone,
his hair a tangled mass
his heart so cold now, turned to stone
as the "pretty people" walk past

His coat torn and tattered,
his eyes a blank stare
life no longer mattered,
he just doesn't seem to care

What happened to make him that way;
was it anger, fear or fright?
Did he just "walk away one day,"
and completely give up the "fight"...