#WritcoPoemPrompt22
He drops on the sandy folds,
Of a deathly bed,
A lost traveler in a mighty desert,
Parched throat, cracked skin,
He is his own Messiah,
Or another vagabond victim
In search of something maybe a belonging
of which he lost sight
In the darkness he lingers compelled that his sight is on light
but what if he never finds
Then will he embrace his vagabond life
or just fall apart hopeless in his endeavour?