Bustling streets and sidewalks
Vibrant colors and shapes of all sizes
The aroma of cheap hot dog and gasoline linger in the air 
Shouting, honking, and running motors echo off tall magnificent buildings
Bright and vibrant faces pass and go
Everyone seems to have a place to go or somewhere to be
This concrete jungle is clearly filled with life except for one man

One man stands out from the rest
He is not filled with life and has nowhere to be
People simply pass him by without a second thought
His clothes are ragged and torn
He smells as if he hasn't taken a shower in a millennia
His face is ancient lined with wrinkles and a defining straggly beard
His eyes are the most haunted, telling stories without words spoken  

He lies on the street
All he does his stare
He has lost everything
A job, a family, a house, a normal life are all in the past
His family is the pigeons scrambling for food, his house is the street and his life is lost a memory
He is a zombie
A body without a soul

In a place of much life, he has none
With the thousands of faces, his stands out from the rest
In the city of life, he is the one dead cell
No one knows his story
Unfortunately no one cares
Coins are bounced his way
But what he needs is someone to talk to