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The Man

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The man looks down at his supper,
And continues to sulk in his own self pity.


At the age of 55 he does not know what love is.
His past is one of loss and pain,

One with turmoil, conflict, and burdens.
Each dark circle under his eye,

Is unattainable success.

Alone he eats.


Touching the clay pot,
He takes a deep,



Sigh.

Imagining when his life,


Became this way.
When his life,

Took a turn for the worse.
At the age of 55 he does not know who he is.





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