The ragged vagrant winds through the wastes

Searching for any sign of life

Longing for the land, he once knew

Before this pointless strife

Lines of what used to be a road

Are the only trail he follows

The vultures above, his only friend

He thinks as he swallows

Soon he will be without any water

He added to his list of miseries

“Oh, what I would give for some shade,

A building or even some trees.

He knows he will not rest

Not even for a minute

For if he were going to die

He will not be the one to end it

The vultures eye him hungrily

Watching their determined prey

He has not eaten in two weeks

He cannot last another day

The vultures cry as he stumbles and falls

Landing upon his hands and knees

Upon the asphalt, he starts to cough

And consequently wheeze

He rises again after the fit is over

Feeling weaker and weaker every step

Uphill sapping all his strength

Within him there was no more pep

Above the hill rose a plume of smoke

Immediately boosting his spirit

People! He thinks as he picks up the pace

He sees the tops of buildings; he is getting near it

More ashen columns rise up

Sporadic throughout the city

The whole town is in flames

If he were not crushed, it would be pretty

Dejected there, he takes a seat.

Accepting all hope as lost

There he remains as the fires burned

Burying him in ashen frost