The old man standing on the corner of King & Lexington, smiling sweetly to all who pass.
His washed up sign, ragged clothes, scruffy looks define him.
No one sees past his outside layer, to the inside, his shining heart of gold.

The passing cars, the passing people, the passing seconds, things remain the same.
Somebody? Anybody? Money for food? The occasional dimes, the awkward glances.
He remembers his old life, his good life.

A home, a bed, food.
What took years to build up, got torn down within seconds.
Blamed society for his failure.

Burned what was left, forgot the pressures, ignored the rules.
Everyone's defined by constant expectations, haven't they heard of a thing called change?
How long does this continue? The battle of man versus society, the expectations.

The crooked smile plastered on what used to be.
He does not regret what has happened. He only embraces his new found life,
that is, his life of unexpectedness.