As on the Bench I LIe

My body’s beset by icy chill, For me - society has no place; The rain I feel upon my face, As on the bench, so helpless am I. I peer through half-closed eyes, Shadows that pass are bleary and blurred; My mind is dead, my thoughts so slurred, As on the bench so still I lie. My mind now spins, my body so limp, And voices I hear, muffled and low; So tired I am, just let me go, As on the bench trapped am I. A blow to my face, a crack to my ribs, “The scum of the gutter.” I heard him say; “A bloody twat, we’ll make him pay!” Now lifeless on the bench I lie. A punch to my stomach, a thump to my head, “Now! … Now!” I hear him roar; My mind now darkens – I feel no more, As on the bench I’m left to die. This poem was written about a homeless person murdered on a park bench by persons unknown for reasons that are not clear. The reader may wish to add their own thoughts about what the reasons could have been. Perhaps the killers were just out to kill a homeless vagrant? Or was there a more sinister reason?