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A Poem

I
I have seen a man,
his arms are heavy,
knees tired..
he might be breadwinner.
I have seen a man,
a man with rugged boots,
he stinks corpses,
with scars in his palms,
his lame leg
he might be a warhero.
The man is marely a man
but decoy of this hunt.
this endless hunt is a timer;
this timer might be all he has,
yet, he continious by tireless hussle.

PS. Was trying to draft a poem, don't know if it even carry a sense
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