Mornings are a stressful sight..
None of his efforts is going right..
He's getting used to the loser's cocoon
He seems to shy away from the fight..
They say to walk on this earth for him is unfit..
He's forsaken courage for the comfort of a seat.
Letting fear and worry eat him away bit after bit..
He refuses to unlock reason, he's nothing more than a candle unlit..
His is a liquid stance,unable to take one form..
Easily rattled and ruffled by the faintest storm..
Into a failure's spill, he's had to transform..
All summed up in a heart breaking past..
Everything he's touched doesn't last..
His eyesight now crumpled up by dust.
His hopes dashed
it's all become elusive,
life's not conducive,
his mind no longer constructive....
society has turned abusive.
Proud Pauper, his peers greatest joke!!!
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