He added his name to the wall.
To the back drop of a city that didn’t want him.
To back-beat, railway rhythms.
he offered his name.
Among the many, painted bearings of young hearts,
young poets, artists and old soul’s calligraphy pens,
leaving their marks.
Laying his contribution,
his only possession,
the best of him, against stone so that it would finally feel solid.
Held up, side by side with those larger than life buildings
with their skyscraping signatures.
His name with the likes of them.
Held higher than the streets would have him believe he was worthy.
His name, painted reckless across heights, waiting for someone to see,
hoping that someone would notice.