I could not believe my eyes
The last time I saw him
My best childhood buddy
Hair hyper-greyed
Head bowed eternally to the gravity of indignity
Shoulders sagging to the tunes of depravity
Pot- bellied by the cruelty of his blight
A beautiful life wasted by the misery of his plight
A precious soul arrested by the animosity of his circumstance.
When and where was the wrong instance?
In this season of goodwill, please remember those less fortunate than yourself.
8 comments:
That was really lovely. .
hmmm, it could be just a wrong choice, a syringe, some snuff, a woman (or a man, lol), a job, whatever. such is life, huh?
Wow, powerful flow of words..great piece...
Nice poem, I like the rhyme in the last few lines. So what was his answer? fate or choice? Is there anything like the former anyway?
Thank you, ever-sweet sunnyside!
Yes, NY.
Somewhere there was a wrong choice, a very wrong choice.
But I was not emotionally prepared for a loaded foray into the history of his anguish, so I let it pass.
Such is life indeed.
Thanks Nanahemaa.
You are as ever irresistibly warm- at least in words and looks!
Yes MW.
I wish I could say that I am any wiser in searching for the reasons for the state of my former buddy.
Fate is what happens when a wrong choice leads to a miry wasteland. No?
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