The bum on the streets
In his lifeless cocoon
Sits in the darkness and looks to the moon
But he can’t see the sky through his broken down eyes
So he sits in dreams and he cries
Sleeping on benches with a newspaper wrap
He thinks of those long ago days
She wanted out and he just let her go
He wonders why it happened that way
And she wonders why he has to be the way he is today.
He picks up a gun and his hands start to shake
He pulls off a hit, lady luck with his fate
But the next time around if he has no control
The next time might just be too late
Standing on street corners begging for more
He leans to a car and she opens the door
He accepts what is offered and becomes quite a man
After all it was part of His plan
Sitting on benches with a glaze in his eyes
He thinks about just a few ways
She tried to change him and he told her no
Was it different when it happened that day?
And she wonders why he has to be the way he is today.
Source: Poems By Steven