old man

what a surly existence it would be

to have no one, to feel nothing

the everlasting condemnation

and the void soul that resides

in an almost unhuman body

constant doubt and bitter waves

prove to overpower what optimism

that survives such meager ploys of hatred

plagued are the struggling ghosts

who walk day and night pleading with sanity

and clinging to this incubus, that they

may never escape