Death disturbed his sleep
Ever watchful in its reach
And the threadbare curtains breathed their last
To the breeze that roamed the street.
Empty was his life
On the pain of burnt out highs,
Seen from a doorway against the rain,
Forgetting that he’s alive.
Time in overkill
Using alcohol and pills,
Then down and dirty the crank bugs came
Crashing more than he could chill.
So his dreams were gone
On the daze of those who mourn
Remembering once a Christmas song
To the first gasp of the dawn.
Copyright ©RMC April 2018
Mistyroads 