Nothing.

There was nothing inside of him
Nothing worthwhile
Nothing to be proud of
Nothing profitable.

He sat alone everyday
For Breakfast and for Lunch
I saw him smile at everybody who walked past him
Every once in a while,
He’d get a grin with a piteous smile.

He sat on the Bench
and looked at the stars, every night
as if it were a daily ritual
and smiled as if the stars to him, were people
glowing and giving light to his life.

People saw in him, An Old Homeless man,
With no one to care for,
And no love,
But only he knew, that it was the other way around.

They all laughed and frowned at the sight of him,
Called him a Mad man and met him with a grin
As he Smiled his way through life.

And all the things that they called strife.
-Anirudh Shankaran.

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