You’d struggle to pick him out of a line up.
He looks familiar, like the others,
blending into a blur.
Doesn’t stop you judging:
Disgusted by low hanging jeans exposing tracksuit bottoms – an extra layer of flesh for long nights he knows the grind won’t stop;
Frustrated at constant hats that crown his head and wishing his feet would walk in something other than trainers – comfort and concealment in his domain;
Unnerved by glint of gold in his mouth, shining against darkness he’s clothed in head to toe – a glimmer of light in hell he’s living in;
Terrified by a hood covering his face and plaited hair – allowing him to hide from a world that hates him;
not as if he has put on a costume to spark terror
set people alight in their own homes.
He may have dangerous traits
but don’t we all have the devil in us at times?
He’s rarely a danger to the world at large
unlikely a danger to you,
unless you treat him like nothing
lower than gum stuck to your shoe
waiting to be flicked into rubbish,
because no one wants to be considered meaningless
simply cos they mean less