The Wanderer

By : Taryn-Vee Burnett

The Wanderer's in a world
So desolate so gray
In his hand an empty bottle
While his coat flies away

On a track leading to nowhere
In a land so cold so bare
The wanderer is so lonely
Standing looking there

He looks up
There's no where else to look
His forehead creased with lines
From others who came and took

The pebbles at his feet
The wind in his hair
The lookers in cant help it
They can only stare

The wanderer is a fighter
He strives to make things right
His only problem is that bottle
Which tends to make him fight