The Faceless Little Man At The End Of The Hall

The faceless little man at the end of the hall 

Is not much for conversation.

He looks blankly without eyes

Much deeper than examination

And without much thought or contemplation

I've seen and passed him by.

He judgingly tilts his form

As if thinking I'm queer--

A more than marginal distance from the norm

As if he doesn't see how I could be born.

It's okay, though, for I'm not put off

In fact, I pity the man,

The faceless little man at the end of the hall.

I don't think he does much--I don't think he can.

In his mind, I have yet to see a plan.

He just stays there, at the end of the hall

Faceless as always, inaudible

but with a vague and piercing gaze. 

I bet he thinks I'm gullible 

I try to help, but his problem is unsolvable.

Author's Note

I'd love to hear what you think of it in general.
Also, any constructive criticism you have to offer would be appreciated :)

Reviews

[Relic]

I can't figure out why so many on this site are so quiet. This is a great piece of poetry that creates a story line in poetic form. I like it very much. I can picture the man just the way you describe him and I can feel your hesitancy about going near him. Nice writing.

[Alucard6336]

Almost seems like you are talking about a ghost.

Everyone thinks I'm gullible, they never factor the whole sheep's clothing paradigm.

This is good writing. I'm going to read another by you :)