He sits in his bedsit alone and lost
Drinking from the bottle, he has no boss
No wife, no kids, no-one to call a friend
He wastes away in his bedsit till the end
His has no job, thrown on the scrapheap
Allowed to fester, allowed to seep
All he wanted was a happy life to be had
But the cards he was dealt were all very bad
So many people are left in this way
So many forgotten, left to decay
In a country that’s considered rich
Lost souls all over, life’s no sitch
Priorities are wrong in our world
No-one there when you need the help
These neglected and uncared for
They need chances so they can soar
For cities and towns across the land
Have these people sinking in sand
Left to fall to the wayside
Ghosts they become, feared, they hide
Published by
Darren Greenidge
I'm a thinker, listener, a "question's pretty much everything" type of person. A seeker of knowledge, always restless, yet seeks the calm in life.
I love writing in all forms and am in the process of completing a number of ongoing projects. I love the craft of writing and the possibilities it holds. A magic carpet through the mind. I love pretty much all creative arts, music, film and theatre the leading ones.
Born in Hertfordshire in England, my family Irish, Welsh and English, I currently reside in Edinburgh, in Scotland. I'm drawn to coastal and mountain regions where I like to go to think and draw inspiration from. Ireland is a place that's dear to me, and I try to get back to see family and friends as much as possible.
My interests are wide and broad, too many to mention here, but history, archaeology, criminology, music and film are just some of those things I love.
I hope you enjoy my ramblings on here as that's what they are really. I'll let my fingers do the ''talking...''
View all posts by Darren Greenidge
Caliburnus Rises 