A seething gang of teens surrounds him,
mocking, calling him names,
Stealing his concentration,
but he will not be defeated; he’s here
to save the world.
Catcalls, insults and derision
almost overwhelm the voices in his head.
He will not listen; they are sent
to deflect him from his divine duty
to save the world.
He strains to hear the angel’s voice,
but the rudeness intrudes,
diluting essential information –
instructions which he is convinced
will save the world.
A Sainsburys receipt floats past his feet,
its jumbled numbers will reveal
a secret code for him alone,
he who was selected by the highest deity
to save the world.
As the youths close in, he strikes out,
screaming, spittle flying from his mouth,
splattering an angry face. Someone cries out
“He’s just a crazy crank, a tramp. Nobody will care.
Let’s have him, lads.”
A slip of paper escapes from a slack hand
to land in a spreading pool of blood. Absorbing the gore,
its empty message blurs as tears forget to fall
for the man who failed
to save the world.
Image supplied by Pixabay.
©Jane Paterson Basil
Making it write 
Phenomenal use of the daily prompt.
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Thank you. It was the first thing that came to mind. There’s a long-dead story behind that…
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Ah, I see
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This was so poignant and heartwrenching, How you have used the poem as a medium to show the heartless behavior of people.
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Homeless people are seen as easy targets, especially if they have mental problems. Thank you for reading and commenting on my sad poem
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Yes you are right.Peopke always picks on someone who is helpless.
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Wonderfully written again, and yes, I remember your story, and your words strongly reflect your thoughts from back then….
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Thank you Ivor. It’s a theme which comes back to me often.
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I think we all have recurring themes, it’s the way our minds work.
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True…
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I wonder how often scenarios like this actually play themselves out in this world. A very sad poem.
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This post has triggered a thought about how homeless women get better treatment than men. They’re potentially more vulnerable, and yet possibly in less danger – or in a different kind of danger, and more likely to get help than men.
I wouldn’t dare say that on Facebook…
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You think people on there would disagree with you?
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A lot of the pseudo feminists (man haters who are therefore as sexist as they came) would say my point isn’t relevant, since “men are the ones who caused the mess in the first place.” I’m on FB, but I’m not active there.
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sad poem but nice take on the prompt Jane, kudos ❤
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Thank you. This one made me quite emotional. The character – although male – was based on someone very close to me, before she went into recovery from addiction. It made me realise that if she had been a man, she might have got a rougher deal.
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No doubt, no doubt. An excellent write, most happen from the thoughts that haunt and remind, that’s what makes them so powerful💕
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So vulnerable out on the street, aren’t they? This is so well done, so heartfelt and sad. And I love the idea of him on a huge mission, if only he can hear the words – heartbreaking, Jane. The structure and repetition work so well here
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Thank you, Lynn. I’ve seen psychosis like that, and it’s horrible for the sufferer. His is the only truth he knows and he’s convinced the world is against him. If you try to help, you are most likely to be seen as an enemy. He’s frightened and alone, and it often translates into anger.
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We had a neighbour years ago with a neurosis like this – he was convinced there were lines of power running through the walls and gates, convinced my father in law murdered a friend of his, scribbled geometric patterns in notebooks. Goodness knows what he thought was happening in the world, but he was definitely at the centre of it in his head
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It’s a terrible place to be. When Laura was in that state, there was nothing I could do to help. Once, when I was in Sussex, she rang me to say she was about to be murdered by her friend (who was trying to help her) and if she didn’t ring back within fifteen minutes, I was to call the police, and send them to her friend’s address. She didn’t call me back, and didn’t answer when I phoned her – she was too scared.
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It’s scary what a powerful thing the mind can be when it’s delusional. Must be awful for the person experiencing such horrors. I’m so glad she’s through all that now Jane
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She’s so far past it that it’s hard to believe it was real 🙂
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And that in itself is amazing, isn’t it? Wonderful and amazing
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It’s fantastic. She sends me photos every day. Some of them show where they’ve been – they’re in Wales now – and some just show the two of them looking happy.
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It is so delightful – a magical story of love and triumph
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