The man I just saw
Was a ghost of sorts
Though not from the past
With eyes that pierced me
And thus revoked my license
To hope.
As I passed my future
On that shabby wooden bench
The taste of failure lingered.
My mouth stale like death
I saw pain take shape
To awaken.
But the sun was dropping
And the day was done.
Nearly as exhausted as he
I wept tears of solitude
To have died so young
To decay.
Skin fell to the earth
Mixed with soil and alcohol
Forming a yet undiscovered element
Known only as certain despair.
A harbinger of fallout
To me.
