discarded on the floor,
His left knee jigging
and the right, even more.
Rivulets of smoke escaped his lips
his eyes cast far away
breathing his life away
he lets his suffering sleeps.
It has been years since he last
greeted his parents, seen his home
and now his life amassed
a wealth meaningless alone.
A counter melody of melancholy
whose beat he knows too well.
A brand of sadness that never changes
is that of a man, estranged.
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Note: Because you can plainly see it in his desolate eyes. The unkempt state of his heart. Poor man.
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