A boy waiting for a bus leaving town,
head hung low, rain falling down.
Interrupted in his thinking,
as a man sat beside him, drinking.

The boy looked over, looking stern,
from feet to knees to eyes, in turn,
noticing the glasses, and the cane,
out of place in such a rain.

"What's the matter, you sunken soul?
look like you crawled out from some hole"
the drunken blind man whispered low,
each word slurred and spoken slow.

"Well you reek of bourbon and rum,"
the boy snapped back, and regretted it some,
his eyes fell again toward the ground,
waiting for the yelling sound.

But the blind man just laughed and chugged once more,
"Don't know what yer yellin' for,
you cant be more than just a lad,
you're problems can't be so bad"

"You don't know me, you drunken fool,
nor how I've been used as a tool,
nor my broken heart that plagues me so,
or any of my other reasons for me to go."

The blind man scoffed a little and went on to say
"Of course I don't know you're way,
but how can you complain to me
of things you think that shouldn't be?"

The boy grew angry and his words grew wild
"You speak down to me, like some upset child!
Like my problems are all just in my head."
with this last sentence the boy's cheeks grew red

"But that's just it, can't you see?
that's exactly how it's come to be.
In your head you've given up,
like some small and injured pup."

The boy looked up from his feet,
so his and the blind man's would meet,
with hurt eyes the boy said "There's no one for me to find"
scoffed the drunkard "and they call me blind"