In The Street Where Beggars Lie Poem by Liam Hughes

A faceless man beaten by any thoughts of want or desire
In a place where time burns slow like the depths of hell fire
The cold air of the night seeps its way into his attire
He learns to fear consciousness and longs for his body to tire
He dreams of dreams as he does not have any of his own
Lying down upon his bed which is made of solid stone
A poet without a pen and like a king without a throne
For him thoughts of harmony will sadly never be known